Monthly Archives: February 2015

Dreaming Out of Open Windows

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Dreaming Out of Open Windows

From time to time, I get blindsided by nostalgia. This isn’t the warm fuzzies or softly sighing kind of nostalgia, but the ambushed and left in a tizzy on the curb type. I blame part of this on the way that memories are stored in an intricate web of sight, sound, and sensation. It’s remarkable what can trigger a memory—a phrase, a word, or a picture. A certain period of time or even a moment can be piled up into a mental closet and stuffed behind a door. Once it’s away, it might stay there, undisturbed for quite a while. But then you hear a snatch of music that fits into that door’s lock like a key, and before you know it, you’re buried in the avalanche that came cascading out of the closet. Read the rest of this entry

Where Are You From?

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Where Are You From?

A few days ago, I was talking with an acquaintance who remarked that she had once been asked if she was British. Her voice is distinctly American with a broad Midwestern tone, and she, naturally, was confused by the question. A mystery, indeed. But this set me to thinking about my own experiences with “mistaken identity.”

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A Serving of Chocolate Cream Pie

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A Serving of Chocolate Cream Pie

The knife glides through the airy whipped cream and chocolate dusting, sliding down through the rich chocolate filling and meeting the small resistance of the light crust at the bottom of the pie plate. Carefully slipping a fork beneath the slice of pie, I lift it gently up, checking the edge of the wedge to see that it has a nice shape. Assured that it is presentation-worthy, I gently slide it onto a white plate. This is the easy part. I place the plate in front of my older brother and he eagerly sits up in his chair, fork in hand.   Read the rest of this entry