Lucinda Cotter
Bio
Stories (2/0)
Fragments of my Father
When I’m being harsh I think of my father’s love like one of those oversized Easter eggs – the kind wrapped in gold foil, with red ribbon tied around the middle – exciting to receive, but a hollow shell containing nothing of substance. He loves me in an abstract way, worries about me and for me, but he doesn’t know me, not really. He has said more than once – the last occasion being at my wedding reception – that I am the most honest person he knows, but as much as I enjoyed the compliment, it is not true. I can be, and have been, as mendacious and deceitful as anybody else.
By Lucinda Cotter4 years ago in Families
tracking change
One day, I woke up old, fat, and tired. Full disclosure: I had also gone to bed old, fat, and tired – I wasn’t the victim of an evil, Rip-Van-Winkle spell. But, for whatever reason, on this particular morning, I came face-to-face with the reality of how far gone I was, and I suddenly wanted to do something about it. I wanted to feel better. I knew it was possible. I knew women my age and older, who had the same health challenges that I had, but who were like virtual Energizer bunnies compared to me.
By Lucinda Cotter4 years ago in Motivation