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Aroma (Collage by Shirley Harshenin) - Columns Fall 2005
The Art of Survival by Liesl Jobson

They say that when you face death, your life flashes before you. For me it was three hours of willing myself to survive, to remain calm whatever happened.
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Have Control Issues? Gardening Isn't for You by Diane E. Dees

When you garden, nature is your partner. She is both older and wiser than you, and it is a good idea to let her lead the way.
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An Embarrassing Tale by Katie Weekley
Suddenly, the emergency bag-dwelling tampons poke out of my pocket for the world to see. Oh, hello Ms. Postal Person! Hi there, Vegetable Vendor! Look there, across the street, it's So-and-So from work! I'd better stick my hand way up in the air to wave and further expose the contents of my skirt pocket!
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Imaginary Women by Lucinda Nelson Dhavan
Familiarity breeds contempt, of course, and modern Indian women have heard the term "Sati-Savitri" used too often, too thoughtlessly. For them, it now means some simple village female, shuffling along behind her husband with her head covered. These ideal women are much more; they are as complex as real women—loving and caring, but willful and passionate as well. As images of womanhood go, the image of a woman who can debate with Death and win works for me. If we must have images of women to inspire us, why should we settle for anything less?
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Do You Have a Right to Tell this Story? by Kay Sexton

It was a gentle enough question in a workshop of my peers, but my reaction was out of proportion. I went off on a sustained rant à la Philip Roth, which lasted about ten minutes and left the rest of the group stunned. After a short and painful silence in which the woman who had questioned me sat turning her wedding ring on her finger and refusing to meet my eyes, we took a break.
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Random Thoughts on Life, Death, and Love by Sarah Bain

My father died of cancer when I was five years old. I don't remember much about that time, but I do recall spending my childhood thinking a great deal about death, wondering how God decides when it is
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An Angel for Two Sisters by Cynthia Joan Porter
"Please don't cry," Christa said. "Here, I want you to open your present early." When she set the gift on my lap, something tickled my arm. I pulled my face from the pillow and wiped away tears. The most adorable kitten I ever saw stared at me.
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