Posts by Jennifer Dougan
When Grief Stalks
Cinnamon coffeecake plunges high up my plastic fork while brown sugar topping flakes and tumbles from the top. Espresso grinders whir loud then fade to the music from overhead speakers. Three inch pink baby shoes glide by in a black stroller; purple sippy handles peak from a stroller’s corner. Wooden coffeehouse chairs scrape and clunk…
Read MoreWhen You Just Want to DO Something!
He’s leaning over the table, mouth open in concentration. Two stacks of soft white socks brush his elbow as he reaches over them. “Look!” he exclaims, proudly wriggling the toilet paper roll down into the gallon ziplock bag. Two water bottles stand erect beside it. He pauses and I slide two folded pieces of paper…
Read MoreIn the Muggy Nights after a Month of Headlines
I remember it, how the air was hot even though it was September 2007 and how Mark had crossed the stage, his shoulders carrying the pain. Photo Credit: Flickr user Mick Baker Rooster, Creative Commons, cc license Photo Credit: Flickr user David, Creative Commons, cc license His voice softer than normal, he had smiled at…
Read MoreOf Fish, and Friends, and Fresh-Cut Grass: Freezing Summer Fast
Can you hear it? Burring and whirring hums drone a scratchy constant as our backyard neighbor mows. The sound and fragrance are comforting and peaceful, one of summer’s iconic pleasures. Tracing the contours of his yard, my neighbor’s lawnmower rumbles and roars, releasing the sweet green scent of sliced grass. My sprinkler arcs languidly across…
Read MoreAn Apology to my Twenty- and Thirty-Year Old Friends
They said it over half-price appetizers, and the taste of it went all salty in my mouth. They spoke of feeling less than, less equal, less valuable, and pushed aside as women in the church. Photo Credit: Flickr User, trawets1, Creative Commons, cc license We reached across each other to taste a half-price miniature pizza,…
Read MoreYour Cartoon Pig Card
Over a crunchy Asian salad of Napa cabbage, green lettuces, red peppers, and sugar snap peas drizzled in a fresh cilantro dressing, she handed me the card. Grinning and arching an eyebrow at me, she waited, her wavy brown hair tucked behind an ear. (Scanned card. Design courtesy of cards by Sunrisegreetings.com) Inside the envelope,…
Read MoreWhen Prayer Looks Like Soup
Sitting beside my squirrelly seven year old, I helped him sound out long-vowel words and watched the clock, the seconds flying past. At eight-thirty in the morning, I was at the kitchen sink, swirling yesterday’s coffee grounds out of the French press and into my compost bucket. Time spun and circled down the garbage disposal…
Read MoreWhat Your Beloved Wants to Tell You
“O M W,” he texts me. It would have been cryptic and uncrackable if he hadn’t just warned us. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way,” he had said, his eyes flashing excitement, hair freshly-cut, the ring safely tucked away. “They’re on their way,” I called out to Mark, Daniel, and Morgan. Grabbing my…
Read MoreJust After Hitting “Send” to God
“Nalia, look!” I called her over and we both stared into the rumpled earth. “I planted these last year and they hid under the snow all winter.” “What are they?” she asked in ten year old curiosity, as my seven year old Daniel peeked over her shoulder too. Photo Credit: Flickr User: See-Ming Lee, Creative…
Read MorePheasant-Hunting with a Pen & Author in Turkey
Stabbing in the black plastic fork, I pulled it back. Speared green spinach leaves, tangy apple squares, and salty slivers of Swiss cheese dangled haphazardly for a moment. Self-consciously helping a few stray spinach stems back into my mouth, I pulled the Bible closer with my other hand. Photo Credit: Flickr User K. Hurley, Creative…
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