I Learned from My Mother

jeff ward

I learned from my mother how to pack for long vacations, channeling the night-before excitement into neat piles of socks and secret surprises for the journey. How to cook over a camp stove, and eat food I’d dropped on the ground. How to swim in my underwear, and bathe in a bucket. 

What to Do

jeff ward

You’re lying on the cool wood floor of your dining room, beside the china cabinet, almost under the the table, in the fetal position, sobbing, moaning “I don’t know what to do! I don’t know what to do!”

How Are You?

jeff ward

I’m sitting at a black steel picnic table outside work, eating a yoghurt, squinting into my screen at a cancer blog. Someone wanders by and asks “how are you?” And I lie, “OK, just enjoying the sun.”

Load More