Great Green Room
by Stephanie Hunt
I have a heron. A gorgeous, mysterious Great Blue. In the mornings
when the sun is bright, I pull back my bedroom drapes and look first
thing. From my window I have the slimmest keyhole view through my
neighbor’s gate out toward the harbor, where at the end of a dock he
sits. Regal, still, his pewter feathers nearly indistinguishable from
the slate sky. He is my talisman, and when I catch him there, for some
inexplicable reason my day feels charmed.
Red Diaper Dharma
by Ericka Lutz
One of my favorite Roz Chast cartoons shows a woman in her forties or fifties wearing a flowing baggy dress with a wild hairstyle and clunky jewelry. The words read: Are you entering your “Goddess” years? Have you gotten heavily into herbal teas, especially the “soothing” varieties? Has your husband recently purchased an expensive sports car? What’s with the hair? This cartoon makes me convulse with laughter and cringe with a bit too much recognition. Am I her? Am I that? Is she my future?
At Second Sight
by Ashley Kaufman
The birth had been an assault. Natural childbirth and pitocin should not be uttered in the same sentence, much less tried together, at least not by her. She had felt inadequate; she had felt unsafe with all those expectant faces waiting impatiently around her, and all their instructions. “Push! Harder! Come on, bear down, now, let’s get this baby out!” The voices, unconnected to bodies, pierced unevenly through the bubble that shut her off alone with the pain. And it had been a bubble. Like being underwater. She was alone inside of it. No one could reach her. No one could help her. But they could hurt her, or at least he could and did. She felt the ring of fire as he crowned, and the last of what had once been her self slipped away and she watched as what was only animal pushed a baby out. It was not the spiritual experience the natural birth proponents had promised.
Literary Mama is turning 5 and we need a fresh look! We’re soliciting designs for a new logo that includes our name and tagline — Literary Mama: Reading for the Maternally Inclined — plus, optionally, an image that captures the spirit of the site. The winning entry will become the property of Literary Mama, to be used on our site, and on any and all Literary Mama gear. We’ll give the winning designer credit on our site, of course, plus a t-shirt and a copy of the Literary Mama anthology. Send your entries (or questions) by January 1st as jpg files (800 pixels wide) to firstname.lastname@example.org