Diane Kane

By Diane Kane When Mr. Munson moved into the decaying farmhouse, he was driving an aging white van with a handicapped plate. Each day, I delivered mail to his battered mailbox that hung precariously by a single rusty nail. As time went on, the paint on the old farmhouse peeled, and Mr. Munson’s van sat […]

by Diane Kane I have lived a three-dog life. I know others who’ve had more, but three is enough for me. Growing up I never had a dog, but after I got married, I said to my husband, “I want a dog that looks like Ole Yeller.” Bear was a yellow lab puppy with paws

by Diane Kane I grew up in the 1960’s when ottomans were called hassocks, and Borderline Personality Disorder was still known as Schizophrenia. The hassocks of the 1960’s that I remember were hard, with blunt edges, and bright patterns. The ottomans of today are soft and rounded, in calming colors. Although they serve the same

By Diane Kane “Jeff and I are getting a divorce.” “But why?” I asked. “Mom, it’s complicated.” “Can’t you work it out?” “We’ve tried,” Shannon said. “There’s no other solution.” I grieved over twelve years of marriage and two children, broken. What could I do? There was no room for my pain. After all, it

By Diane Kane I knew her well. You can’t live in someone’s body for nine months and not know them. I felt the anger. I smelled the sadness and tasted the salt that would burn in a lifetime of my wounds. With no choice; I was born, living in constant fear of the woman who