Literary Mama Rewind: Music
Calls for Submissions — December 2013
For Your Journal: Quarterly Recap
After Page One: Journaling
Nursing sucks. That is all.
Why can’t I forget this? My son has long since forgiven me. We’ve had many happy days and have successfully navigated others marked by greater trauma or guilt.
But our rationalizing soon faded. There are no more excuses to hide behind. There are no more words.
It’s as though, in the spark-flying space of her brain, a connection snapped between her mind and the muscles of her mouth. She cannot find a way to shape her thoughts into words.
“How old is he?” the woman asks coolly, nodding toward Jacob. She has oversized sunglasses and a sharp blonde bob. Although it’s 90 degrees and humid in late morning at the park, her skin is still matte with foundation.
You look down at Jacob, his oversized head, his wide blue eyes, his wavering legs, and your back clenches. You feel your forehead sweating. You want to say, Fuck off, it’s none of your business how old he is. The woman’s daughter has already clambered up the ladder (“Look at me, Mommy! I’m climbing so high look at me!”) to the tallest slide on the playground. The girl’s hair is slicked into two French braids, and she’s wearing a pink sundress with white bike shorts under it.
When I first became a mother, I knew that it would change my life as a classical singer, but I didn’t know quite how. I had read about sopranos who had lost their top notes as a result of pregnancy’s …
Corn silks tangle
between my wet fingers.
My husband plays guitar,
the notes like water over rocks.
Marion Winik’s most recent memoir, Highs in the Low Fifties: How I Stumbled Through the Joys of Single Living, chronicles Winik’s return to the dating world and her experiences along the way. Winik is the author of six previous nonfiction books, including The Glen Rock Book of the Dead and The Lunch-Box Chronicles, as well as two books of poetry. In a conversation with Lisa Lynne Lewis, Winik talks about the importance of storytelling, the birth of “momoir” and the influence of the Kardashians.
Theresa Shea’s The Unfinished Child is a novel about women, friendship, and family, but the author has a lot more on her mind. Despite its quiet Edmonton setting, and its close-up scenes—in doctors’ offices, at kitchen tables and cafés—it’s also an ambitious book, exploring the intersections of pregnancy, technology, abortion, disability, and family.