Observation While driving home from the grocery store the other day, I saw the most curious drama playing out in the sky just above the road before me. Just below where a seagull was circling, a hawk circled, too. They were turning in sync as if they were participating in a Regency era dance where partners keep each other at arm’s length. Every now and then, though, the gull would dive, the hawk would block its descent, and the gull would rise to circle again, the hawk mirroring its movements just below, an ongoing part of their dance. As they circled, they followed the path of the road before me, so I found myself following them until they reached the open field of an intermediate school near my home, where we parted ways. Speculation Because our town recently hired a young man with two trained birds of prey to teach the seagulls in our coastal hamlet to stay away from shopping areas, I wondered if the hawk was his. I have been wanting to see this spectacle since ...
I don’t think I understood the assignment. I only wish I could remember the story behind the picture, but I’m guessing my expression is somehow related to the flowery headband. Today’s expression captured in pictures or forced frills will be the same. What’s a girl to do on Father’s Day when she no longer has a living dad? One clear snapshot has impressed itself on my mind today, one that now only exists in my mind. I wonder if Dad carried the memory, too—he and I were the only ones in the foreground of this image, a moment that only belonged to us. I don’t know how old I was—older than three because we lived on Gamma Street. Not so old as five. I suspect events leading up to this moment had something to do with sibling jealousy over my brother’s arrival and the resulting demands on my mother’s time, but that is unclear. I was going through a mommy phase. I wanted Mommy to tuck me in at night. I wanted Mommy to carry me around. I wanted Mommy, just Mommy. I wanted nothing to do wit...