Karen Anderson

I grew up in a family where invitations came with expectations so mostly we accepted whether we wanted to attend or not. It wasn’t a recipe for a good time and I didn’t want to keep doing it.

I am carrying my old desk lamp into the elegant lighting store, trying to slip past the crystal chandeliers on my way to the repairs department. Standing in line, I stare at the clutter of parts I can’t even identify.

“Exposure, followed by sanctuary was somehow part of Grandmother’s emotional need, and it turned out to be the pattern of her life.” When I read this in college, I knew Stegner was describing me, too.

We all have comb overs—every single one of us. We are all hiding some kind of defect—visible or invisible, real or imagined—that we work very hard every day to disguise.

I commissioned a good friend to weave this rug for me over 25 years ago. But you’d never know it's age. The colors are bright and the shape true. And every time I wash it, I’m stunned by how handsome it looks

When I was young, I wanted to be special, to be different, to be noticed. Now, I’m old and I rather like being ordinary, being similar, being invisible.

The image of that gnawed trunk stays in my mind as we continue down the river. I think of all the times I’ve given up on projects or people when—with just a little more effort—I might have broken through to some kind of solution.

If you’re a people-watcher, you probably enjoy airports. Who are all these strangers and where are they going? And here’s the thing: the person who looks vaguely sinister or who has lots of children or an oversize back pack, that’s the one who ends up sitting next to you on the plane.

I open the front door to pick up the newspaper and notice some trash out on the grass next to the curb. “What is this?” I think irritably as I go out to pick it up. But it is not trash. It is somebody’s personal papers—all folded up and soaking wet from last night’s rain.

As a child, I was taught to say a prayer every night before bed, the one that begins with, “Now I lay me down to sleep.” At the end, I asked God to bless various people, starting with my parents, of course, and (somewhat reluctantly) my baby brother... These days, I have a different but similar ritual.