Author: liz-hammonds

You Day

I was walking through the grocery store last weekend when I saw in my periphery a greeting card with a pug on it. I grabbed my partner’s arm and said “Look! Look at that pug!” and when I swung back around I felt my stomach hurl itself down my knees to the sweat-slick floor of that industrial grocery store conglomerate because – fuck! – it was a pug, yes, but that pug’s speech bubble said “I love you, mom!” It’s almost Mother’s Day. And after Mother’s Day, it will be almost Father’s Day. Thinking about it makes my breath...

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Lost Girls

I remember seeing her lying at the edge of my parents’ bed, still and white, with a dress that billowed off the turned edge of a comforter. My father says that never happened, that I dreamed it. He says she was never laid there in a dress, on a well-made bed, with mother, father, sister looking down. Either way, she is dead. My sister died as a baby when I was a big girl of five – a real-life angel. Perhaps if she had lived longer – had made it to three candles – maybe then my mother would...

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