Watching from the bench. . .g
The pier is packed. Spectators six deep watch the finals of the Vans US Open of Surfing below. I wedge myself into the crowd trying to…
Making it last . . .
Love is in the air . . . well not for me, but I’m certainly surrounded by it lately. A few weeks ago I sat under…
Mementos . . .
Barefoot, I step on the wooden bead. I grab my foot and rub out the pain in my arch. A few days ago the elastic in…
Hiding in plain sight . . .
We gather around the dining room table, our small, intimate writers group. Sipping tea and coffee, and snacking on popcorn, each of us takes a turn…
Still amazing . . .
Unable to sleep, I lay awake and think about him. I don’t want to, but I do. Instead of letting those thoughts float away, I cling…
Home . . .
I slide the window shade up a few inches, careful not to let too much light into the airplane. We are pretending it’s nighttime as we…
Little boy wisdom . . .
I stand at the back gate of the school, the designated spot for picking up first graders. My grandson knows I’m his ride today and I…
Hard, but not impossible . . .
I blink in the darkness, it takes me a second to remember where I am. My fourth bed in as many weeks as I search for…
To whom it may concern . . .
To whom it may concern: Don’t wait . . . don’t wait to tell someone you don’t love them anymore, or that you never did,…
Endings and Beginnings . . .
I chose not to write about him, us, our relationship, during my time in Italy. A bit of my life I kept to myself, private, pure…
