Dear Real Estate Agent,

Dear Real Estate Agent,

It’s not big or fancy or bold. Out back, it’s dappled light. The scent of something sweet in the air. The feel of moss beneath your hand when you hide behind a tree. In the front, it’s a porch and shutters. And all around, the faintest of maritime sounds in the distance: boats bobbing against a dock, the whistle of a ferry, the warning whoosh of fog.  It’s a wooded place in a harbor town. 

If you find my home, will you let me know?Image

Very sincerely,

Every client who grew up near a lake

Dear Mom,

ImageDear Mom,

 

Please don’t be upset. Please don’t be jealous that I am having brunch with my mother-in-law today.

Women remain competitive still, don’t we? Into our fourth decade, fifth, or yes, even your seventh.

We haven’t learned – still we bristle, gossip, snipe.

At how unfair it all is. That some get more. Some stay beautiful, some stay well.

Some linger on, without memory, mobility, joy.

And some, like you, are taken earlier, for no reason.

The pretty ones, the smart ones, the ones who work hardest and deserve it all, don’t always win. Haven’t we learned that yet?

You are gone, and you are loved, grieved, remembered, I promise.

But my mother-in-law is the one who lingers. And if she could look in my eyes, if she could finish all the broken sentences she starts,

she might say she is not the luckier one. She might say you are.

 

Happy Mother’s Day.  

Love,

Your daughter

Dear Limo Driver,

Dear Limo Driver,

They are children. They may look like adults, in their tuxedos and gowns. But these things are false: eyelashes, tans, confidence. They want to do grown up things, they want to do stupid things, they want to do childish things. They want everything, all at once. Forgive them. Protect them. And remember, we’re the ones tipping you, not them.

Love,
Parents