Painting with Words

Personally…

Picasso paintings are too much, too much for me.

The sharp edges, the abrasive color pallet, the brash tones and raw emotion. It provokes unpleasant, thorny, sensations under my skin; his work aggravates my nerves. It is valid. But not an experience I enjoy.  

Elaine

I prefer the works of the realism periods. One of my favorite paintings is called “Elaine.” It’s so evocative. The moment I saw it, I felt part of me slip away onto the dark

I’m Between Stories

About seven years ago, the first warning sign that my mother wasn’t herself was her inclination to comply. She would ask permission (it seemed) for small, simple things. She’d look to her husband, “is this OK?”

It pricked my senses. What was happening?

I didn’t see in him as desiring to control her. They had already been through her first round of cancer together. He took on his new role and became caregiver. It didn’t make sense.

No. This was something else, this was the first symptom of Alzheimer’s settling in. Dementia has

2019-05-04T09:22:19-05:00Categories: The Innocent Prince|Tags: , , |2 Comments

A bit about My Antonia and Nia, too

Once in a while, not often enough, I clear (or ignore) everything and carve with words.

When the submission call went out for essays, fiction, and poetry inspired by Willa Cather’s My Antonia, where could I even begin? How to honor one of the first novels that struck my heart on multiple levels?  I started by thinking essay, and its impact on me, but then I diverted to a new story instead.

Certain lines and images tantalized me. I drove west. I watched the sunset and thought about the vast land, the way

2019-03-31T09:34:17-05:00Categories: The Innocent Prince|2 Comments

I Don’t Know

My mother’s things are in disarray all around me. Her sunglasses are in the center console of my car. Her signature “Betty Boop” coat is draped over my back seat. Her purse is next to the couch in my family room.  

The clear baggie (fancy hospital luggage, I call it) holding her pictures and coloring books from her bedside is on the floor under my kitchen counter.  It’s next to Christmas gifts we haven’t yet put away. Her health took an emergency turn just before Christmas, really, and my time quickly segmented into caregiving, staging/transporting, waiting, watching,

2019-05-04T09:21:34-05:00Categories: The Innocent Prince|Tags: , , |4 Comments