Tag: siblings
Posted on May 30, 2020
by Jan Wilberg
8 Comments
A tiny thing can last for years. The memory of it can be as fresh as the first second, the leaves on the bush as green, the soil underneath as loamy and dark and the tiny elves’ footprints as distinct. My brother would motion…
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Posted on December 15, 2019
by Jan Wilberg
6 Comments
I wrote my sister a letter to tell her about our very sick brother but she didn’t answer me or call him which was more deadly than the last time I wrote to her when she sent back my letter unopened crammed in an…
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Posted on November 20, 2019
by Jan Wilberg
8 Comments
I pushed the button for the 14th floor, the tower suite. I got off the elevator and looked down at my feet. I was barefoot. This seemed crazy to me although I often go barefoot, not to meetings, though, never before had I been…
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Posted on May 29, 2016
by Jan Wilberg
42 Comments
I read the news of my nephew’s death on Facebook. I knew it was coming but I didn’t in the way that anyone older finds it so hard to believe that a younger person would die first. We think dying will be linear and…
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Posted on January 13, 2016
by Jan Wilberg
17 Comments
A tiny thing can last for years. The memory of it can be as fresh as the first second, the leaves on the bush as green, the soil underneath as loamy and dark and the tiny elves’ footprints as distinct. My brother would motion…
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Posted on August 25, 2015
by Jan Wilberg
15 Comments
I asked so much of her and I never said thank you. It’s hard to believe looking back like I did today, sorting through hundreds of photos, some so old that they were printed in squares like they were taken with a Brownie camera,…
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Posted on April 10, 2013
by Jan Wilberg
2 Comments
I’d never seen one before but I knew what it was right away. The contraption laying at my feet underneath my dad’s old Sears picnic table was an animal trap. It sat in a heap, the chain and the two toothsome jaws, rusty with…
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Posted on September 2, 2010
by Jan Wilberg
1 Comment
They’re not crazy about each other at the moment. They’re kind of going their separate ways. But I can predict, as sure as the sun will rise tomorrow morning, that when push comes to shove, one of my adopted Nicas will throw down for…
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