Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl

The Mariners are one game away from the World Series. And here we are in the second inning: Logan Gilbert is shaky, the infield is fumbling routine grounders, pitch locations are slipping wide, and the Blue Jays have already scored two runs. I feel my hope deflate — a slow, embarrassing whizzle like a well-placedContinue reading “Staying in the Game”

I met Paul in graduate school when he was overworked and burned out at Microsoft. Now, years after his retirement, he’s flown to New Jersey for a month to care for his aging parents, who need daily assistance. Thankfully, his sister joins the rotation soon, and he can return to Seattle and reenter his routine.Continue reading “The Space Between Being Seen and Feeling Selfish”

Thieves and vandals don’t exist in Middle Georgia. On the corner of N. Dugger Avenue and W. Cruselle Street sits Bob’s, its sign printed in four black words separated by large dots: Discount • Beer • Cigarettes • Groceries. At the corner rest two gas pumps, long out of service. In front, between, and aroundContinue reading “The Ride to You”

The binoculars—double the size of a normal pair—sit lying on the entryway bench. Brought outside yesterday after a “Is that a deer?” moment with a lesser-sighted Grandma, who was told no by me—the golden caramel cow’s thick build made it obvious it wasn’t. To me, anyway. And to better assist, I picked up the magnifiers,Continue reading “Focusing Expectations”

Negotiating which pot to transplant the Dieffenbachia cutting into was taking too long, so Paula and I abandoned it and headed inside to help prepare for a fried chicken burger dinner. With a coating of sand on my upper thighs, calves, and feet, I was unfit for house entry—same for Evelyn—so we took turns whileContinue reading “Directing It Just So”

I couldn’t help myself—the rote “The client …” fumbled off my fingers without thought. Those therapeutic progress notes must be subconsciously tapping me on the shoulder, reminding me of the two I still have to complete. I’m targeting words like quietly or unexpectedly—anything with “ly” at its end. While reading Love in the Time ofContinue reading “A Little Bit of Monica”

We’re on a three-lane highway—Dave driving, Evelyn racing cars on her tablet, and me in the passenger seat. An army-green Corvette, followed by a dark gray Dodge truck, swept by in the left-hand lane. We’re in the right, slower, but switch lanes when a large box truck merges ahead. We move back to the rightContinue reading “The Ride I’m On”

I send my mind on a sabbatical, open its bank, and browse the files. I pick up this one every few months—it’s of a night in northern Washington where I lay back on a plastic-strapped lawn chair, one of those I now see in ‘90s retro meme posts, and snuggled up with a blanket. I’veContinue reading “A Memory Made Sky”