Author Archives: janishaag

After weeks of intractable fog,after passing showers that grayed over Christmas with occasional bursts of sunshine beforethe next set of showers oozed in, weather on the move at last, for the moment,not a socked-in shroud of cloud. At last, to … Continue reading →

And so it is Boxing Day,the day after Christmas, andhere comes one of my angels, the little frizzy, red-haired onewith her stubby wings,flitting around at an odd angle, listing to starboard,as if she can’t quite achievea straight line, always tilted … Continue reading →

(In memory of the late, great Nell Lester) Of all the things you gave me as a child—as Girl Scout troop leader, purveyorof my favorite tuna and noodles,oh, and not incidentally, mom to the girlnext door, my first/forever best friend—I … Continue reading →

certainly flits about in pink,wearing an apron, hoveringby a heavenly stove wheresomething smells, well,heavenly. Many of us sat at her tablehappy to eat anythingshe put on a plate, andthat has not changed, evenas the angel hung up her last apron—perhapsthe … Continue reading →

(for Maxi on our first anniversary) Dude, I love the way you sleep around,finding cooler spots in summer,hibernating in the cozier places in winter— though you have enough fur on youto outfit two decent-sized chihuahuasand still maintain your own warm … Continue reading →

Feel how light they are, our lives.—Liesel Mueller, from “Snow” Snowflake light, crystal feathers falling weightlessfrom a cloud, but once earthed with their brethren, these lives accumulate such weight as to sag roofs,down power lines, snap tree limbs. Wet snow … Continue reading →

The light lacy and muted on her last day,the year’s shortest, barely squintingthrough a heavy curtain of clouds,the impending goodbye looming. She did not want to go,though her body disagreed—a brittle cocoon of her former self,her breath butterfly faint. I … Continue reading →

Behold this mystery:even on a rough nightthis peace that cradles us,this love that loves us,this tendernessthat comes upon us. —Steve Garnaas-Holmes ••• And now—after weeks of smothering fog—rain. The heavens loosen their grip,a muscled wind whipping the trees, hurling last … Continue reading →

You two look so happy in this photonext to the phone in my kitchen,with a tiny me on Father’s lap,positively delighted by thisnew person you had made. Did you coo over me and ticklemy toes? Did you play peek-a-boo?Did you … Continue reading →

Penmanship was once a status symbol—the nicer the hand, the greater one’seducation, wealth, privilege. And neat cursive handwriting becamewhat every teacher demanded of pupils—the feminine slant or the upright masculine— prompting the torment of many a student,including my left-handed father, … Continue reading →