Stories I Tell Myself
Linda Brody Bakst on Brooklyn, growing up, identity and more
Tag: prose-poem
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Note: Every so often my thoughts are best expressed in a prose-poem – I call it that because I don’t know what else to call it. As I continue going through Aunt Clair’s stuff, this is what came to me. Aunt Clair saved letters Who do they belong to now that She has passed to…
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‘More nana-bread!’ ‘Okay, just one more small piece.’ I slice a sliver of banana bread, delighted that she so enjoys something I made. She takes it eagerly. ‘Mmmm,’ she says, as she munches. How can I deny her? I draw chalk hearts on the driveway. Pink, blue, yellow, orange and green. She runs, jumps…
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March 13th, in addition to marking my son’s 31st birthday, was the 15th anniversary of my father’s death. I am pleased to report that memories of Dad’s strength, intelligence and ever-present support have replaced the images that haunted me in the years immediately after his death. My thoughts of him then were of an ill,…
