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…
On my way . . .
“Home . . . I’m on my way “ It took a split second to recall why I had written those words . . .…
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…
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…
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…
Write, edit, rinse, repeat . . .
Tap, tap, tapping away on my keyboard, reading and rereading chapters, my eyes burn. I understand now why other writers have said that editing a story…
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…
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…
The simple life . . .
Lying on my back, my book held arm’s length above my face, it shades my eyes from the bright sun. I read and sunbathe along the…
