Yearly Archives: 2012

Featured Submission

Posted on by July 12, 2023

Last year, I followed Carrie Goldman’s monthlong series about adoption avidly. Carrie’s daughter is Star Wars Katie who is, I’m not lying, one of the superheros in my life. It’s because I was bullied as a kid. I cheer for what that little girl and her family have done not just to stand up to bullies but to bring real change for other kids in similar situations. I follow Portrait of an Adoption closely and cheer for every post Carrie puts out there.

But still, I’m not adopted. Neither are my kids, so it took a little soul searching for me to realize why I cared as much about the adoption posts as I do about the bully posts.… Read the rest

And what came after

Posted on by February 25, 2020

 

Becky’s whisper jerked Marilyn out of sleep.  “It’s under my bed again.”

Marilyn muttered, “Honey, you’re nine years old. Use your flashlight.”

Becky didn’t say anything. Marilyn cocked one eye and didn’t see her daughter. Then she opened the other one. “Really?” she said to the darkened room. “The one night she actually sleeps, and I have to dream her coming in. Damn this house.” It was too soon. The divorce was too fresh. She should have stayed in the a few more months instead of uprooting Becky in the middle of the school year.  She jerked the pillows into a new shape, turned over and pulled the blankets tightly around her.… Read the rest

The Ballad of Adrian and Lou

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“You’re a goddamned attention whore.”

Lou flinched to one side as a paperweight thocked into the wall by her head. “You’re drunk, Adrian.”  She bent down to unbuckle her shoes in the bedroom’s semi-dark. She forced her hands not to shake. When had it gotten so bad?

“What the hell were you thinking?” She heard another whack in the place where her head had been. Something bounced onto the carpet.

“I was dancing.”  Lou pulled off the shoe. She reached for the other buckle. There was no quick escape from this pair; the vinyl was warped and stubborn. There was no quick escape from this room; Adrian stood between her and the door.… Read the rest

Nevermore

Posted on by February 25, 2020

This morning, my children are safe and in school. But before I dropped them off, I read about four children who have died. One death was buffered by time, another was agonizingly fresh, and two more happened on a preschool bus in Carollton, Kentucky. These losses rattled me, not because they were mine, but because in my bipolar brain, there is only a short walk between the things I fear and the things that others live.

Each loss calls to mind another. I think about my best friend’s little sister, who died at fifteen, and I remember a student of mine whose son narrowly escaped drowning.… Read the rest

Dancer

Posted on by February 25, 2020

The ballet culminates in the lieutenant general’s return to his family. Before he goes, he touches his son’s face in wonder, and when he saves himself and returns, he hoists the child up on one shoulder.

My son plays that child.

Dressed in a white button-down shirt and khaki shorts, he wears an expression of solemn focus for the ballet’s duration. I have seen him do it five times now, two dress rehearsals and three productions. The last show, the one in a company studio in Mississippi, was the only one I could control my weeping enough to get pictures.

 

Any week I can play with Leeroy can’t be ALL bad, and since he let me pick this week’s song, ZZ Topp’s sharp dressed man, I have to say I am tickled pink.… Read the rest

Seasonal Reflections

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Scott drove the knife down, and Caroline wailed, “OW!”

“It’s a pumpkin. It can’t feel a thing.”

“I still think it hurts.” She glowered at him while he finished cutting out the lid. He reminded me of my grandfather, measuring out from the stem as he carved.

On the other side of the patio, I was still jabbing around the pattern on Sam’s pumpkin, and Sam himself was standing on a swing shouting, “I hit an iceberg. The Titanic is sinking and we haven’t got enough lifeboats!”

I said, “Chewie, go save Sam.” But the dog rammed his nose into my armpit, far more interested in the possibility of pumpkin treats than in saving his kid.… Read the rest

Sonic goes to pieces

Posted on by February 25, 2020

“If Sonic keeps hitting, he’ll have to sit with me.”

“No!” The hedgehog took another swipe at Caroline.

“Sonic, we need to talk about control.” I plucked the toy out of Sam’s arms and hugged it close. Sam roared and leapt, trying to steal it back.

Scott offered, “At least he’s quit hitting.”

“This weekend was incredible. He had to come down sometime.” Sam held up one hand but didn’t jump again.

“Did he have to crash?”

“That’s the real question, isn’t it?” I returned Sonic and waited to see if Sam would continue using his toy as a weapon.

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I have missed Leeroy, Lance’s robot assistant over at the 100 Word Song.… Read the rest

On What Saved Jeanine

Posted on by October 19, 2012

On what saved Jeanine

In the last three weeks, I have posted two linked stories that deserve a bit of backstory:

http://jesterqueen.com/2012/10/01/on-the-cutting-room-floor/

http://jesterqueen.com/2012/10/18/on-my-honor/

First, you should know that I’m a contrasting sort of girl. If the story is bleak, odds are I’m giggling and clapping at my own cleverness while I type. If it’s heartwarming, I’m sniffling self-sorrow and rolling my eyes in disgust. If it’s cheerful, then you can bet something AWFUL is going on in my life. My neutral and my stories’ neutral are about the only emotional matches.

Second, let me be clear. I have never been suicidal.… Read the rest

On my Honor

Posted on by February 25, 2020

The telephone rang. Four jangles, then it stopped. For a minute, the room was quiet, then the phone buzzed again. Lucia heard it plainly. But she did not disturb her black shirt or lift her black jeans from the seat. Black, she sat still.  When the machine again went silent, another caller kicked to voicemail, Lucia turned her head to watch the front door.

She held her sisters in her hands, Jeanine in the left, Tina in the right.

Jeanine, nine, saluted. Above her green Girl Scout uniform, her arm lay bare in the glare of too bright sun. Tina wore a bikini and held a beer.… Read the rest

Memories Captured October: The Fair

Posted on by February 25, 2020

Memories captured with Galit Breen from These Little Waves, Alison from Writing, Wishing, and Tracey from Sellabit Mum

… Read the rest