Mirror Love I stare at the stolid girl in the mirror. Her long, dark, hair hangs awkwardly over a warm face with blue eyes. Exactly like her mother’s. As the years go by, she looks more like her mother and less like the little girl who walked around hand-in-hand with her daddy, dancing with her Read More
Bullet Point Are all repeated acts what make me who I am? It seems so, with the changes I make just being added to the list. Even if I scratch one off, there are always more to add. The clothes I won’t throw away The perfume I rarely use The overused baking tray and my Read More
The Library is on the first floor of the House. It is a long, narrow room with a fireplace at either end, yet despite its odd shape it is both welcoming and intimate. It has comfy chairs, covered with faded chintzy flowers, and flattened, feather-filled cushions that are inviting to readers on damp afternoons. The Read More
If I were a painter I should paint these first impressions in pale yellow, silver, and green. (Virginia Woolf) [1] Blue I can paint my earliest memory in blue – my memory of the jam jar I dropped at my parents’ feet after being so certain I Read More
Know my name A name is a fickle thing. For me, it’s a way for people to get my attention; for others, it is me. For my part, I don’t think of myself as ‘Craig’. I answer to it, but I don’t like it. I’ve heard it remarked that it is a ‘good Scottish Read More
I say to my daughters never trust March for its joy comes in a quarter but takes full month’s charge January 13, 1991 The Soviet Union president demands the restoration of the USSR constitution in Lithuania. When the Lithuanian government disagrees, tanks and trucks with armed soldiers fill city streets. The Lithuanian prime minister Read More
When you are a child born in one place and raised in another, ‘home’ is complicated. Even more so, when ‘home’ is a series of couches, hotel rooms, borrowed apartments, and rented houses. ‘Home’ is something that belongs to your mother, gifted to you through pictures and stories, the folklore of her youth. It is Read More
‘I believe that all leaves, even grasses and mosses, acquire brighter colours just before their fall.’ Henry D. Thoreau The leaves are beginning to blush. Their green palms are speckled with pink and orange, colours just threatening to take over. The trees’ petals are now more the yellow of dawn than jade. Little tints of Read More
