The Art of Gift & Take

I’ve never been a big gift lover, but I have always been happy when someone thought of me. During my first marriage, I was often wistful that my then-husband wasn’t the type of person to go into a grocery store to pick up something and then see something else—say, a pint of vanilla frozen yogurt—and get it because he knew I would love it. Basically because it made him think of me. Now, to be fair, if I had asked him to get it while he was going to the grocery store, he would have. But sometimes I wanted him to just happen to do something for me because he had thought of me. Maybe his mind didn’t work that way. Whatever the reason, I got used to it, and I told myself it was fine, it didn’t matter, I had everything I needed. And that was true, to a point. And anyway, I liked the idea of not relying on anyone else. I wanted to be independent. 

In my first marriage, we were definitely that. When I look back, I can see how much we were like two planets whose orbits never crossed.

After we split up, I did what I had always done: I took care of myself. If I needed or wanted something, I got it. It took two of my male friends to make me realize I needed to be more open to people doing things for me, giving me things, thinking of me. If someone offered to help me, I stopped saying, “No, I’m fine.” I learned to say, “Thank you. That would be great.” One time, my garbage disposal went out; one of these friends said he would replace it. Another time I wanted a car stereo with a CD player in my car; my two friends said if I got it, they would install it. We cooked meals for each other every Sunday, and we always took into account each other’s preferences, restrictions, and tastes. When it was my turn, I loved planning the dinner and slicing, sautéing and baking. When it was each of their turns, I loved having whatever they had made on a warm plate in front of me.

Had I been so worried before about being independent that I had given off a vibe that I didn’t need anyone to do things for me? Maybe. At any rate, these two friends taught me that independence didn’t have to mean only giving and not receiving, that all relationships are give and take.

Now, I am married to a man who regularly thinks of me. One time, I remarked on a pink fleece jacket someone had on that I loved, and a few weeks later, one arrived in the mail just for me. When my back started hurting because I was sitting so much, he said I should get a stand-up desk, and he researched the best brands and got a desk for me. When the big box arrived at our house I figured it would stay packaged for a few weeks—he’s incredibly busy at work and has long days—but as soon as he got home from work that night, he changed clothes, got out his toolbox, and put the thing together.

Thank you, I said. I love you, I said. And I went into the kitchen and started to make dinner, thinking as I always do of what he likes and doesn’t like, and opening the refrigerator, pulling out the cutting board, beginning the easy, daily work.

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Sales at My Bookshop

Looking for gifts? I have lots of sales going on at my online bookshop.

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Upcoming Workshops

Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me for any of these online one-hour sessions. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. These workshops are part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10 each.
November 17, 2020, noon (EST): Register here
December 1, 2020, noon (EST): Register here
December 15, 2020, noon (EST): Register here
December 29, 2020, noon (EST): Register here

The Art of Memoir/Personal Essay: A Generative Writing Workshop
Tuesdays, January 5-February 2, 2021, 2:30-4:30/5 p.m. (EST):
Join me in this online (Zoom) workshop during which you will generate new writing, read writing that inspires, and learn some tools and techniques on the craft of personal essay/memoir writing. The goal is for you to leave with first drafts and a writer’s toolbox ready to help you finish and write the rest of your own life stories. Cost: $329. Limit 12 participants. Register here. Learn more here.

Learning (Again) the Lessons of Connection

A few years ago, I told my husband I needed a change to my days. What I meant was that working at home alone was no longer so great for me. I was starting to become lonely, and the loneliness was shading the days with more and more grey, no matter the sunshine outside. 

Having a home office had been great—and still is at times—but I am an extrovert. I need my alone time, but too much of it and the sadness seeps in. So my husband, Preston, kind soul that he is, let me borrow an office space—often used as spillover space when an employee needed more room to spread out—and I started going into the office with him several times a week. 

It wasn’t as if I spent gobs of time talking to everyone at work, and sure, I was still doing my own work in a room by myself, but having the office door open, just hearing the voices of the people around me and interacting enough to say hello and to see how they were doing cured all my bouts of loneliness.

Then the pandemic hit. They needed that office space, the one I had been using, to spread out and be safe. I packed up my keyboard and mouse and my insulated thermos and started working full-time back at home. Let’s face it, having to work from home is not the worst thing in the world. I am lucky I have my job, that my husband has his, that we have a roof over our heads. Let me be clear: I am not complaining. 

The months passed, and I worked from home, with the windows and my computer and the phone as my connections to the world during the day.

As the pandemic continued, I talked to my single friends, the ones who lived alone. “I’m struggling,” they said. “This is too much.” I thought I understood how they must feel. I wasn’t lonely—after all, I see Preston at the start and end of every day—but I thought I could imagine how they must feel.

But now I can see I couldn’t, not really. 

This past weekend, when my husband was at work all day Sunday, for some reason I hit a lonely wall. After all this time, I’d been perfectly fine on the days I was home alone and then suddenly I wasn’t. I’m not sure what made the difference, but I could feel the edges of the grey seeping in, just under the cracks. And I thought, “If this is how I feel, under such easy circumstances, how must my friends feel who live alone?” I’m guessing I still don’t have a clue.

I have a plan for myself on how to tackle the loneliness. I’m not worried about me. But it’s made me even more concerned about my friends who live alone, especially as we head into the colder months. I was already calling them, but now my calls will increase. “How are you? Tell me about your day.” Sometimes it’s not complicated to show you want to be there for someone. I don’t have easy fixes for their loneliness, but I can at least try harder.

Do you know someone who lives alone? Reach out. Chat. Zoom or FaceTime. Ask them how they are. You might not be in the same room, but you can at least make an effort to show up for them. Let them know you have not forgotten them. Let them know they matter to you.

(Photo by Eduard Militaru from Unsplash.com.)

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Sales at My Bookshop

Looking for gifts? I have lots of sales going on at my online bookshop.

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Upcoming Events

November 4, 2020, 5-6:30 p.m. EST: “Moments that Matter: an Introduction to Flash Nonfiction” Writing Workshop. Join me in this free session with Community Building Art Works. We’ll talk about flash nonfiction, how it works, why it works, look at some examples, and then I’ll give you a prompt and you will WRITE. Session is free but registration is required.

November 10, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

November 17, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

December 1, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

December 15, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.

A Letter to Say You Matter

A decade ago, I got an email from one of my college professors. She let me and a few other former students know that our poetry professor was ill and reaching the end of her life. We were urged to reach out and tell her what she had meant to us. I can’t remember now if it was said explicitly in the email, or simply understood, that as my poetry professor faced her mortality, she was grappling with whether her life had had an impact on anyone.

I stepped away from the computer. I went to the next room and sat down. I put my face in my hands. Not only was I losing my dear poetry professor, but she was wondering that? This is the poetry professor who had introduced me to Mary Oliver, a poet I still read to this day. This was the poetry professor who allowed me to study one-on-one with her for a whole term. We would sit in her little closet of an office and hunch over small poems, yet a whole world was opening for me, a new sky of light and stars. I lost track of time in that office. What did I need time for when I had words I loved? This was the poetry professor who said she would stick by me when the literature magazine that I edited (and she advised) had a fight with the administration over ownership and power. She did just that: she never wavered. Not once. 

She taught me so much more than about stanzas and meters and line breaks. 

After the email about my professor’s impending death, I wrote to her immediately, but to this day I do not know whether she got my letter before she died. And now, years have passed, but my memory of her has not.

On Tuesday night, I thought of her as I opened the box that got delivered. It held the pages of my first poetry collection—my publisher sent them to me so I could proof them. I thought of her the next day as I was teaching students how to write their life stories—how to use sensory details, how to show emotion through action and setting, how to reflect on the past. I thought of her the other night as I doodled a panel of hearts meant to represent my students and all they had given me and I, too, wondered if my life mattered, if what I was doing would have any impact on anyone. And I thought of her when I felt the joy that comes when one of my students has an aha moment. With clarity and understanding comes wisdom, and with wisdom comes peace.

Yes, Imogene Bolls, you had a tremendous impact, and you will always matter to me.

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Upcoming Events

October 10, 1:30 p.m. EST (Zoom): Stop by and Chat with Me
As part of Press 53's anniversary celebration, I will be Zooming with anyone who wants to come by and say hello, ask questions, talk about publishing, about characters, about writing, anything! Please come by and say hello. Free of course. Join here.

October 10, 7:00 p.m. EST (Zoom): Reading from A Small Thing to Want: stories
I'll be reading from my short story collection and answering any questions. Hope you can join me. Free. Join here.

October 13, 2020, noon (EST): Let’s Write Together!
Having a hard time finding inspiration and motivation to write? Join me in this online one-hour session. We’ll talk about a piece of writing, I will give you a prompt, and then you will WRITE. This workshop is part of Press 53’s High Road Festival of Poetry and Short Fiction. Cost: $10. Register here.