Catherine Gigante-Brown

We’ve pieced ourselves back together in a patchwork quilt of ragged emotions. The aftermath of 9/11 wasn’t easy for us, yet it was much easier than for some. People standing 50 feet away from Peter didn’t come home that night; he did.

To the tattoo artist, I was a flesh canvas that she could transform into something beautiful.

Instead of categorizing people as different colors, I proposed we might begin to think of each other as Earthtones—because our skin colors are based on hues from the earth. Just as the planet is made up of a myriad of shades, it’s still one cohesive entity. We can be thought of as one entity also.

I realized my father was from a generation that never said those three little words. He was saying he loved me without them. But I didn't realize it then.

I saw my present mother-in-law in a whole new light the first time she held my newborn son.

raunchy renaissance woman. multimedia artist. probably a slut.

My husband and I agreed: raising a child with an independent spirit who made decisions for himself was a good thing.

I fumbled with my lace bra, hoping my silicone form wouldn't fall out from the left cup. I wasn't exactly ready . . . yet I was.

It sounded too good to be true: comfortable, attractive bra inserts for breast cancer survivors like me. I got on the computer, checked out their website, and immediately put in for one.

Content Notice: Death