Karin Naragon

"You’ll talk someone’s ear off!”   It was the soundtrack of her childhood.  Luckily, no ears were harmed in the making of Karin. But, as a mute toddler evolved into a chatty child faster than her pattern of speech, the pointed idioms came for her ears saying, “Stop talking.” Despite the sting of witty insults telling her to hush,  the little voice persisted. Asking questions. Making remarks. Sharing stories. Most of which went unacknowledged by a family who mastered the art of tuning her out....

The first thing I saw through the crack of a welcoming door was a bright, white mustache. It wasn't symmetrical, but it was groomed to perfection. As always, it sits atop a nose so small, it's hard to find in the smoosh of his two-dimensional profile. I walked into a living room lit by sunset, with matching, orange eyes tracking every move. I see that strikingly unique face often, adoration and comfort always making an appearance too. But that evening, another feeling stopped by our meeting:...

By Karin Naragon January 25, 2024 I met him when I was only 3 years old. I don't know how old he was, but I'd mark my guess around 28. This preschool teacher became our family babysitter when I started kindergarten, and by the time I finished first grade, he was our after-school nanny. Another family eventually joined the mix, and every day became a playdate. He let us eat extra ice cream and watch exciting, new things we wouldn't have seen otherwise. There was one condition: secrecy. His...