Imagine you’re watching a movie and you can see something terrible is about to happen, but the characters have no idea it is the moment before things change forever. Because they aren’t aware of the future they’re not drinking in every second or paying extra close attention. They are having a regular or in this […]

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  • March 8, 2017 - 7:58 am

    Peggy Gilbey McMackin - Profound insight into your feelings Nancy, and the sadness of losing your Mommy at 7. I wish you could have expressed your sadness, your grief, at the time. I don’t know what else to say except I’m sure your own story will help others who may have suffered in a similar sort of way.ReplyCancel

    • March 8, 2017 - 8:06 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Thanks Peggy. In retrospect I imagine everyone was doing the best they could.ReplyCancel

  • March 9, 2017 - 7:42 am

    Danielle - Nancy, I especially appreciated your perspective on approaching your mother’s age that she passed and feeling a new wave of grief. My mom died five years ago on Easter (April 8) and each year fresh pain rises up. I hadn’t even thought of years from now what I’ll feel.

    I think you discussed that day with poise and distance, something I’m not quite able to do, yet.ReplyCancel

    • March 9, 2017 - 7:48 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Danielle, I’ve been taken by surprise at the oddest times. Have you read Motherless Daughters? It literally changed my perspective about myself and my experience.ReplyCancel

  • March 9, 2017 - 10:00 am

    sampada - Nancy

    This was a painfully beautiful piece. I love how you started the post, about the television characters not knowing how their life was going to change in a moment.

    I love the little details you used to weave your emotions around.

    I loved how aware you were of your feelings, ever since that age, and how you were able to take us readers on your emotional journey.ReplyCancel

    • March 9, 2017 - 10:34 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Sampada, thanks so much, for visiting and your kind comments.ReplyCancel

  • March 9, 2017 - 2:57 pm

    Ellen - Though I’ve known through your other writing that your mother died when you were young, it is this piece that puts all the pieces together. What a horrible and sad experience that I am so sorry that you had to go through as a new 7 year old. Grief cannot be denied however hard we tried… I’m glad that you’ve been able to reconcile some of yours.ReplyCancel

  • March 9, 2017 - 5:29 pm

    Lisa @ The Meaning of Me - Oh my gosh, Nancy, this is simply beautiful. So raw, so honest, and absolutely exquisite. Your feelings are tangible through your words. I am so very sorry for your loss and for what that has meant to you through your life. But I’m also sure that it has helped bring you to where – and to whom – you are right now in life. Thanks for sharing this.ReplyCancel

    • March 9, 2017 - 5:52 pm

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Thanks Lisa! I seem to keep writing through this over and over. I guess that’s what we do.ReplyCancel

  • March 11, 2017 - 11:50 am

    Liz - I was ten. This is exactly right.ReplyCancel

    • March 11, 2017 - 12:32 pm

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Liz, thank you. ReplyCancel

  • March 11, 2017 - 1:10 pm

    Carol Lynn Williams - You are not alone. Your words have eloquently captured every emotion I have felt since March 30, 1976 the day my mom died at 26. I was 6 and I had no idea how drastic my innocent world would change. Thank you for sharing your story. I can’t help but think your mother would be proud of you for reaching out and publicly discussing your pain in an effort to heal yourself and possibly help someone else like me to know I’m not alone. I’m not crazy. I just miss my mom. Thank you. May God bless you.ReplyCancel

    • March 11, 2017 - 1:13 pm

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Carol Lynn, I have written many times about my mother’s death, this was the most direct, but writing is one way to hold her memory. Thank you for your comment.ReplyCancel

  • March 12, 2017 - 12:11 am

    Lori Jones - Nancy, your writing really captures what you lost. I list my mother when I was three and our family suffered for it. Foster homes (Google ones) and then my siblings adopted out and more Foster homes for me til dad remarried when I was ten. Step mom was the worst part of my childhood. Still have a longing to be mother ed as a Sr. Citizen. How do I get over it? Yes, I’ve read ‘Motherless Daughters’. Need to pull it out again.ReplyCancel

  • March 12, 2017 - 12:14 am

    Lori Jones - Oops, I should have proofread. First line s/b I lost. Google s/be good. Sorry about that.ReplyCancel

  • May 4, 2017 - 12:38 pm

    Becky Parker - I was 7 and she was 25. I also melted down late in my teens, then freaked when I turned 25. When my daughter was 7, I freaked again, realizing with full clarity how young I had been and how profound it was that I had glimpses of memories of that time. Motherless Daughters walked me through the “therapy” that I needed to process this loss as an adult. I am still mourning, but the change is indescribible. Thank you for your beautiful, honest writing. I felt every word.ReplyCancel

    • May 6, 2017 - 10:05 pm

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Becky, Thanks so much for such a heartfelt comment. We all go one, sometimes things are fine, sometimes not, but we go on.ReplyCancel

There is a reason I keep baking scones, and that is because in addition to being a delicious way to start Saturday morning, unlike many other baked goods, scones are incredibly forgiving. They are the indulgent old aunt and exciting new love interest all in one tasty, craggy dome of batter. They can adapt to your […]

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  • March 6, 2017 - 7:40 am

    Peggy Gilbey McMackin - Delicious. I’m not much of a scone baker myself but with your easy directions perhaps I’ll have my ten-year-old grandson whip up a batch after school some day!ReplyCancel

    • March 6, 2017 - 8:14 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Peggy, I bet he can do it! When I use frozen butter I just grate it in the food processor, than add the dry ingredients to that and woosh it about ten times.
      ReplyCancel

Happy March! Spring will arrive in a few weeks, we’ll enjoy all kinds of weather from snow to summery temperatures. We’ll celebrate the Ides of March, St Patrick’s Day, March Madness (if you care about such things) the Vernal Equinox, and, wait for it (you’ll have to, it’s the final day) my birthday. Within these […]

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  • March 1, 2017 - 8:55 am

    Peggy Gilbey McMackin - A fascinating tour Nancy. The sausage taste testing is hilarious! I think you were ahead of your time for an eleven-year-old wanting to go to Chinatown for your birthday! Love the steamed pork buns and prepare them at least once a year. I also love New York Chinatown, possibly even more than San Francisco. Happy Birthday, month. We are filled with them in our household!ReplyCancel

    • March 1, 2017 - 8:58 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Peggy, I’ve never made them, and since my daughter gave up meat I’m even less likely to make them just for myself 🙂ReplyCancel

  • March 2, 2017 - 12:24 am

    Melony - I just LOVE Pork Buns! I have a few on offer close to where I work, but I treat them as an extravagant treat, because carbs are evil or something. Happy birthday month to you!ReplyCancel

    • March 2, 2017 - 8:56 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - I can get them a few places here, but none are as good as the ones I remember!ReplyCancel

  • March 2, 2017 - 2:46 pm

    Donna-Louise Bishop - Aw I’m so pleased to read about how much you enjoy your birthday. I was really transported there with you! I would have loved more descriptions of the smells though, I bet the food smelt gorgeous. Great Job!ReplyCancel

  • March 2, 2017 - 5:39 pm

    Ellen - Happy birthday month!! I love this trip down memory lane and that you ended by saying you still connect Chinatown with birthdays.ReplyCancel

    • March 2, 2017 - 5:40 pm

      nrlowell@comcast.net - Thanks Ellen. We’ll see how this journey goes. They may not all be this cheery…ReplyCancel

Gravity is the enemy, and the insistent lover constantly pulling us towards her, leaving her mark on all of us as her husband, Father Time sits by her side laughing. We beg for more time and less gravity because we are vain and foolish. There is no escape from either. All we can do is […]

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  • February 27, 2017 - 8:48 pm

    Dyanne @ I Want Backsies - Gravity also seems to hold me close to the ground once I get down there. I can’t get up easily anymore, and it makes me feel soooo old!ReplyCancel

    • February 28, 2017 - 8:46 am

      nrlowell@comcast.net - I know, when it’s time to sit on the floor I do everything I can not to. I can get down, but getting up… UGH.
      ReplyCancel

  • March 1, 2017 - 8:03 am

    Peggy Gilbey McMackin - Little behind on the week, but great title Nancy, and so true. Fun story. Or, as the Asians would say, it is great luck to get old, I’ll go with that one, especially when elements of gravity are so hard to control.ReplyCancel

What is the best way out? Ending a relationship is a no-win situation. There are about fifty bad ways to do it from e-mails to Post- its, all of which are the coward’s way out. Leaving someone takes courage. Leaving someone well calls for integrity; the best way to end a relationship is with kindness […]

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  • August 1, 2017 - 12:03 am

    Look deep into my eyes - YeahWrite - […] The conversation. You write persuasive essays in your head all the time. No, really, you do. When you sit down on the couch and talk to someone, whether it’s giving advice or answering a question, you’re writing a persuasive essay. So why not treat your next persuasive essay as a conversation? […]ReplyCancel

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