April 9, 2014

Jeanne Holtzman


My only child is 22 and moving across the country next month. I am cleaning out the toy closet.


I love flying so much I just had to take a Klonopin to print out my boarding pass.


The medical assistant calls my name and I make myself stand. I follow, trying not to lag behind or to rush forward. I don't know my results yet, but she does. She doesn't chew gum or make small talk. She gives nothing away. I hate her.


Knitting lace on slippery double-pointed needles without a lifeline is foolhardy, and has cost me hours of anguish.  And yet I persist. Is this what risk taking has come to in my old age?


Jeanne Holtzman is an old hippie who is letting her freak flag fly once more.

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