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Bilingual Babe

I saw them one day at the Ikea superstore just outside of Madrid, a couple of years before Pedro was born. A family of four: Mom, Dad, Sister, Brother. Sister:…

Mothering Abroad | February 2004 | By Kate MacVean


An Interview with Caroline Leavitt

Andi Buchanan: The early buzz about Girls In Trouble is exciting, and so far it seems to have struck a chord with readers and critics alike — which is basically…

Profiles | February 2004 | By Andrea J. Buchanan


The Kitchen Table

As I opened the mailbox, I saw the yellow notice that my cable bill was overdue. How had I forgotten that one? I took it to the kitchen table and…

Mothering in the Ivory Tower | February 2004 | By Amy Hudock


Other Takes Over Mother

A thirty-five year old mother at my son’s preschool didn’t wake up on Sunday morning. There was no warning. No goodbye. Leslie died in her sleep, leaving behind a shocked…

Mother and Other | February 2004 | By Rachel Iverson


What’s Coming to You

The circumstances surrounding Donna’s death make me feel uncharacteristically mellow. Waterlogged garlic peels wreathe the sink. I notice how much they look like miniature tea bags. Our dinner guests left…

Fiction | February 2004 | By Rebecca Wolsk


The Girl at the Side of the Road

I spotted her when I rounded a bend. She was by the side of the road, in the shadow of trees which line old Route 19, a slow narrow route…

Fiction | February 2004 | By Peggy Duffy


Chocolate

Margaret suddenly had a yearning for cake. Chocolate cake. She had six boxes of cake mix to choose from in the pantry. She took two from the shelf and set…

Fiction | January 2004 | By Cassie Premo Steele


Ghost Season

Ghost season, my daughter calls it. The time the dead draw nearer. The wasps are hungry. They flit along the clothesline among the muggy towels, slick sheets, lick sweat off…

Poetry | January 2004 | By Sheila Black


After The Bath

My five-year-old daughter slides her fingers between her thighs holds her hand out to me and says, “smell.” I hesitate, bring my nose closer to her hand, take a token…

Poetry | January 2004 | By Bella Mahaya Carter


Mothering by Scent

Bring me the bedding that held his sleep and blind I’d know it as his. Pungent smell with an acrid edge, like delicious food just starting to turn. Since infancy,…

Poetry | January 2004 | By Ona Gritz


The Vigil: A Pantoum

Suddenly my children are ill. Dragged out like old rags, dead dogs. They are gray in the face, limp, shadowy. And I am dazed from the night vigil. Dragged out…

Poetry | January 2004 | By Cathy Barber


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