When The Woman at the Memorial Tells Me She’s Famous I tell her I am not, although a growing numberof nuthatches know me by the hulled sunflowerseed in the feeder, and the beagle with a loose thread of droolrushes to greet me when I come home. My nameis spoken often by a few dear friends, and I relishthe way it sounds in my husband’s mouth, as ifhe’s tasting a ripe summer berry. He recognizes meeven on my worst days, and loves me, the wayall the people gathered in the Universalist chapellove our not-very-famous friend,laughing as we retell a few of his bad jokesand crying as we read to each otherhis…

Blueberries I’m seduced not by their plumpness, northeir sometimes-sour midnight skin,but rather by how your tall frame bendseach morning at the low freezer drawer,hoists the big bag, pours a clanking handfulinto your bowl, then (beep-beep-beep,vrrrrrrrr) heats them in the microwaveto grace your Scottish oatmeal. It’s not their sweetness, no, it’s the routine—how it creeps into our lives blindlywith its cool quietude, its fresh comb of honey—that makes me want to grasp too tight.I am, after all, my father’s daughter;his gritted teeth, his flex-jawed smile,they’re also mine. But I want us held fastby something more than my fixed gripand stronger than my small fingers;something intangible, reliable, tender. I’d like to draw…

Downsizing My new neighbor is out there again, this time plunking weeds from his flower beds into a plasticbucket. Yesterday he used his shrieking leaf blower to wreak havoc on his six-foot-squareAstroTurf lawn, sending yellowed magnolia tree remnants flying into the street. When he and hiswife moved into our retirement community of manufactured homes a month ago, I said hello onthe sidewalk. We chatted about where we used to live. He said: We downsized from a five-bedroom house on a half-acre in the foothills. What we used to do. I said: I was regional directorof human resources for a hotel company. Now as I see him through my window working…

Dispatch from the second morning of my sixth migraine hospitalization When the nurse wakes me up at 5:30am to ply me with electrodesI literally scream my way out of a dream. Apparently Thorazinecan pull your QT like taffy, and if it gets too long you’re out of luck. I pass my EKG and am awarded a gelatin capsule with a hundredtiny pearls in its casing, a pharmaceutical crown. They give youthe Benadryl first so you don’t fly out of the cuckoo’s nest when they startthe drip. In other fun facts, it turns out squeezing Thorazine through your veins makes your noseso stuffed that even as the drip pulls you under,…