Blog

Foxtrot: My Mother’s Last Dance (pt 3)

We moved her into a one-bedroom, third floor apartment that was around a five- minute drive from us, in Westford, a neighboring town. We experienced a bit of déjà vu, with more antique doll-related drama and hysteria that this time featured my husband accidentally...

Foxtrot: My Mother’s Last Dance (pt 2)

The Lexington apartment was at best a placeholder, just something to get her up from the palm trees to the pines, as well as all her belongings, an abundant enough amassment to fill a palace or two. I knew it was difficult in those early days for my mother to mask her...

Foxtrot: My Mother’s Last Dance (pt 1)

You know how you can hear phrases so many times, for so many years, from the same person, that you stop hearing it? “Hi pussycat” and “Hi sweetheart” were the words my mother would greet me with- either in person or over the phone. That is, unless she was angry with...