(WARNING: The following contains spoilers for Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist.) I wish I could remember her name. Tallish, thin, with pixie-cropped gray hair and sky-blue eyes framed by glasses, she taught the gifted program (as it was then called) at Northside Elementary when I was in sixth grade. Once a week, she escorted me and …
Approximately two weeks after my mother-in-law was granny-napped and installed at her oldest daughter’s family-owned care home, her daughters arranged to escort their mother to her bank and lawyer’s office. Her son (their brother and my husband), who at the time was her POA and property caretaker, had been seen on numerous occasions stealing furniture …
(part one) At some point after the 2020 election, my husband’s oldest sister had to find a new hairdresser and was terribly upset. COVID restrictions had been somewhat recently lifted, and she’d been looking forward to her cut and color ritual, the meandering and soothing chitchat that typically accompanies such salon appointments. However, instead of …
I remember meeting with my guidance counselor in seventh grade and, while I can’t recall their name or gender, I can recall knowing the answer to their VERY SERIOUS QUESTION but not whether it was the right answer. Which, when you are a somewhat bookish kid and also a pleaser, yanks your innards in a …
My Name was Supposed to be Elizabeth Ann 