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Stories by Rosa Jurjevics

Rosa Jurjevics in Boston

It's a Wrap It is one of the first sunny days in this godforsaken town. I roll up my sleeves, glance into the empty expanse of the U-Haul, and think, Finally, I am a real ...

Rosa Jurjevics in Boston

The Producer It's 2 p.m. and I'm back in bed, computer propped on my blanket-covered knees, one hand on the keyboard and the other hand on the phone. I am wearing my customary morning costume ...

Rosa Jurjevics in Boston

Tucked In And Terrified Surprise, surprise. I can't sleep. I made a valiant effort, though. I went to bed at 11:30 to the sounds of my computer playing cheery sitcoms on loop and my ocean-waves, ...

Rosa Jurjevics in Boston

The Granddaughters Nanny is dead. It is Karen who calls to tell me this. It is Thursday, and I hear the phone and know, ducking out of class in what I hope is a discreet ...

Rosa Jurjevics in Boston

Bad with Girls One evening in Brooklyn, feeling enterprising, I wandered into the kitchen and sat down on the chaise lounge opposite my father, who was parked in his favorite reading chair. "Dad?" I said. ...

Rosa Jurjevics in Boston

Nasty Old Bird It was my aunt's truncated e-speak -- in which she disregards all conventions of grammar -- that informed me my maternal grandmother was dying, and I suppose that made it...blander, less impacting. ...

Rosa Jurjevics in Boston

Dispatch from Beantown I don't like Boston. I don't like this crummy pickle I got at the convenience store downstairs, and I don't like this town. It has taken me four years, but I have ...

Mushballs!

Catch a wave in Queens.

Contrary to popular belief, there is surf to be had off New York City. Just as one can purchase a bagel (or passable facsimile) in San Diego, one can ride a wave off Queens. It's ...

Soundtrack

The music that tells us we’re alive.

The Woes Of A Woman In Love My hand paused before the mascara reached my lashes and I inhaled deeply — it was almost time. The mounting passion in her voice, off-key yet somehow harmonizing ...

Mom

The woman we never forget.

As Thin as Butterfly Wings My mother was born in the high desert of northeastern Arizona. Even now it's a hard place to thrive, with rain unlikely and resources few. Her father built their house ...