Category Archives: Dissociation

Vault

In mid-April of my first year with Blue, I went to spend the afternoon at Michael’s apartment. From the Metro stop, I turned down side streets canopied with the chartreuse of early Ginkgo leaves, past the power restaurants that ring … Continue reading

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Contact

When Michael was sweet sixteen, he decided to spend the entire summer at home rather than busing up north to sleep away camps. He helped babysit the twins and puttered in the barn with a welding gun, building a metal … Continue reading

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Tango

Prelude: As I rev down my engines and prepare to go on blogging hiatus for the next couple of weeks, I thought I should take this opportunity to skip ahead in the story a bit, to a chapterlet called “Tango.” … Continue reading

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Talking Cure

Rich spent a few days on regrets. If he had been more aggressive with the State Department, could the adoption have happened in less time? If he had pressed Michael’s grandmother for direct contact with the boy sooner, what would … Continue reading

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House

Rich lived in a house with grandeur of the sort that gives permission and makes you feel taller on opening each door rather than diminished by the height of the ceilings or the breadth of space. Its exterior was of … Continue reading

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Red

Ovale. Acrylic, paper, and silk thread on canvas. HH Pham and A Roodman, 2009. The red of my dreams is not a daylight color. In daylight, red is bold and substantial. It boils and gleams. It is touchable, on the … Continue reading

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The Written Life

I’ve been reflecting on that old chestnut about how you should write what you know. The theory goes — familiarity lends more layers to the telling, lets details seep through and generates the confidence it takes for the pen to … Continue reading

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