I was a lonely child. I could not have told you I was lonely as I did not know how to name or describe the blank and empty palette that stretched before me on waking every day for as long as I could remember. What I accepted - in the way that children simply accept the way things are because that is all they know- was that it was up to me to figure out how to fill hours and amuse myself while my father was at work and my mother busied herself with the daily tasks of housekeeping, meal planning, cooking and ensuring her children were adequately clothed and fed within the modest budget she had to work with.

I was 8 years old when my mother was diagnosed with colon cancer and hospitalized for a month for surgery and post-surgical complications. I worried that she might die and leave me motherless. I also worried that her cancer might be contagious and that I might very well catch it and die as well. I had no one to talk with about my fears. My father was preoccupied with my mother’s illness while...

One day long ago my mother treated me to a day at the beach. She didn’t swim and as far as I recall she didn’t particularly like the beach, but for some reason, that one day she decided to humor me and take me to the beach; just the two of us. I am guessing it may have been Laguna or Newport as we were still living in Thermal, California and it was a long there and back.