Category Archives: Blue Funk

Everywhere I look there is someone grieving. The last time I tended my garden was two days before Papa got sick. The day he passed, I was climbing up to my floor when the season’s first jacaranda fell on my … Continue reading →

We were in Berlin. It was a great, busy day. We’d walked the streets of Berlin, looking at new graffiti, smiling away at strangers, meeting old friends, making new ones. Everything and everyone was lit with the pleasant, golden sunshine … Continue reading →

My parents taught me Love is service. Simple kindnesses like sticking to a routine, doing chores, making tea, eating all meals together. I love you implicit in every brush of the broom and the wetness of the mop. My parents … Continue reading →

I wrote this last year. It was a good day, a small celebration. This year, there’s no papa. I have been wretched today.The pictures with fathers and children are actually painful. The sappy, sentimental songs, often gag inducing, bring so … Continue reading →