essays by shé

bookshelf

Tag: makingfamily

  • Eleven

    “Let the child drive, so,” the locals told my mother. She had chartered a horse-drawn gypsy caravan for two weeks in Ireland, even though she was scared of Equus. “Yeah, Mom,” I chimed in. “Let me drive!” I was eleven. Horse-mad. But no, she gripped the reins and struggled through despite high anxiety. Brave woman.…

  • May Day

    When I climb aboard after scraping Habibi’s hull – see you, barnacles! – what to my wondering eyes does appear? A small squat military vessel a few hundred feet off my port bow.  I sit at the rail to catch my breath, and notice that the ten fatigued and armed men on board are not…

  • Stuffed

    I had shoved too much into the day, and now I was paying. I couldn’t find Habibi in the dark. Audrey Kayak was loaded with water and provisions – I’d also shoved too much into her. Bright city lights prevent me from seeing the dimmer solar tiki torches I’d rigged fore and aft when the…