You are currently browsing the tag archive for the ‘Daughter’ tag.

In photos of my daughter’s wedding, I look thinner than I was and not at all as if I wanted to strangle the groom. There stands Sheila, radiant as always against a bank of pallbearer suits. Read the rest of this entry »

Some teams just don’t have it; they suffer their greatest loss before the season begins. Others never win a game but end the season undefeated. My daughter plays for such a team. Read the rest of this entry »

I promised my daughter my heart, forgetting it wasn’t mine. You were there, fat with her, already weary of the burden and beautiful, intolerably beautiful. You made demands: a hairbrush, a mirror, not that hairbrush, ice yes but not ice chips, a delivery date— Read the rest of this entry »

Neighbors and strangers are holding bits of my childhood up to the sunlight, the better to judge them. Mom and I have arranged the tables in loose chronological order; attentive shoppers moving clockwise will see my unformed adolescent self unfold into hopeful young womanhood over there by the plum tree. Read the rest of this entry »

My daughter Magda is four years old and a frightening specimen. I’m running out of preschools that will take her. “We can’t tell when she’s kidding,” they tell me, “It scares us.” I know: you need an example. Read the rest of this entry »

At age six, we are wiser than at any other age. We know things nobody could have told us and we keep them to ourselves. Before I forget everything forever, shall I tell you what it was like for me that day? You know what it did to my sisters. Read the rest of this entry »

What happened to Shirley? Her brother was shot and she lived her life feeling shrapneled. I wish I could tell you her story. I’ll tell you what I know. Read the rest of this entry »

Even professionals need roommates in this town if they want to live anywhere close to the action. He’s been gone a month and now I need a new one, but only freaks are responding. You’d think with the rent I’m charging they’d self-select, but everybody thinks they can afford it. Read the rest of this entry »

My stupid sister says she wants to be a Sudanese baby in Darfur. Mommy says when we find her, she’ll wish she was a motherless African orphan. It’s just emotion talking; I’m just emotional too. Read the rest of this entry »

Sometimes it seems inconceivable I should be the age I am. When sunlight through the atrium bakes us in the common room like tacos under a heat lamp, I stop counting the days I do remember and consider this scene before me. Read the rest of this entry »

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299-WORD NOVELS

Character, conflict, emotional impact. And sentences! Everything you want in a novel, without one extra syllable.

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The pen name David B Dale honors my parents Beatrice and Dale. David+B+Dale = davidbdale

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