Author Archives: clutterheart

About clutterheart

You don't know me, but you will.

Toalla Babies

On the first day, it was peacocks, which were eerie to me because of the curve of their necks and beaks: like cobras ready to strike. I had to tell Billy that the “chicken” on the table was really his … Continue reading

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What Makes a Friend a Friend?

I met her by the poolside my first summer in college. She looked like a friend: long dark hair and a perfect bikini: black and white paisley with a vintage cut. She carried a bag she must have picked up … Continue reading

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China and the Coming Storm

Mom asks a lot about her ‘things’; the china cabinet and china mostly. Over and over, I see the disappointment in her face as I tell her that they are gone, and that there was just too much for me … Continue reading

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Martha’s 99th Birthday

I was out for dinner with family that had traveled in for my grandmother-in-law’s 99th birthday when I looked down at my phone and saw it glowing. Someone had messaged me. I held it just within view underneath the table, … Continue reading

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Things That Help Write Your Thesis

1.) The day off with nothing planned BUT writing your thesis: A friend or two may try to tempt you, not intentionally of course, to wander off track. Stand affirmative that you will be writing and that come May, you … Continue reading

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Adventures In Basement Cleaning

Over the span of twenty years, I’ve dedicated entire weekends to organizing my mom’s basement. I’ve packed its contents into boxes time and time again: three generations of old toys, old clothes, old everything Mom insisted we keep, only to … Continue reading

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What Makes A Home

It was the spirit of Mom’s home that made it a home, not the things, I’m realizing now. In the weeks I stayed to take care of the cleaning, her home grew strange and beautiful to me. Before, it was … Continue reading

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My Husband Used to Live in a Tent

Mom’s house was on the market two days when it received an offer. We’re wrapping up the many things that have to be wrapped up when you sell a home, so occasionally, I still have to go back there, which … Continue reading

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Home Skeleton

The home skeleton left nothing to be remorseful about. Faded stains of traffic along the carpet, trails that took us from room to room, where we once sat, ate, read, slept, laughed, loved, screamed, hated; now open, breathing light. The … Continue reading

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Stranger and Stranger

Sometimes I see an aspect of me I don’t understand. I see it in the post office when your eyes meet mine and I smile. You frown and look the other way. I suppose that being at the post office … Continue reading

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