Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle (part 3)

Headquarters was a tree fort and a look-out tucked in a ravine on the undeveloped side of the neighborhood, the world of  How ‘bout… “What do you wanna do now?” “How ‘bout the fort? “Nah, too hot.” Two months of accumulated scrap two-by-fours, nails, and even a stack of pilfered plywood covered the old sagging … Continue reading Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle (part 3)

Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle (part 2)

Catholic authority had soaked into my essence, influencing my world from all sides: Mom, my older brother, School, Creation itself taught me I was second, and guilty just for existing. I was the good Catholic girl though, and even had a hard time cussing. If I practiced to myself, f-k, the sound of my own … Continue reading Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle (part 2)

Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle, (part 1)

Memories of what it felt like before Traumatic Brain Injury are a clear breath of spring air, the feeling of when I felt sure of the world is a touch mythical.   They surface bittersweet, slightly nostalgic of a stolen life. “Dad” was more of a presence than a parent before he died, as he rarely spoke … Continue reading Taming the Sun, The Value of Scrap Mettle, (part 1)