The thing about pockets, especially with other peoples, is that they are forgettable. Today at the holiday market at a nearby farm, Evelyn, Dave, and I met our friends Lindsay and Ethan. As Dave commented on the newly buzzed, without a patch of brown lawn, my eyes spotted a plump worm. I motioned to himContinue reading “Unforgettable Pockets”
Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl
Sick and Tired
It’s a day of being in and out of consciousness. A fever of 101.2 and a headache that after three baths, twenty-six naps and a few pain relievers is still going strong. I didn’t think I’d be able to write today, even though I thought about it the entire day. How to tell you IContinue reading “Sick and Tired”
The Invisible Me: A Poem
With the stroke of a hand, light betrays dark. The monsters slink under beds, and the rooster slices silence with its screams. All while I replay a dream. My husband is in the background; his loving presence is quiet, like a family portrait on a mantel. The main act is the weariness from years ofContinue reading “The Invisible Me: A Poem”
Bada Bing, Bada Boom
“I don’t like ’em. It’s not only the mush, but the firm. Like, pick a side, ya know?” A Tony Soprano-like client’s negative feelings towards mushrooms made the tea almost come out of my mouth and back into the cup. Thankfully I’m used to his humor. I also learned how clients cook their annual turkeys,Continue reading “Bada Bing, Bada Boom”
I’m Late, I’m Late
“I don’t need it to freeze. Driving in at four AM would not be cool” The white-aproned man sets the roast beef on the scale. “You live up the hill?” I ask him as I, too, am concerned about the steep decline. He nods. “This is my first year with ducks.” I tell him, feelingContinue reading “I’m Late, I’m Late”
Cliffhangering
I need a coffee recall button. After returning to the playroom twice, and the upstairs bedroom, bathroom, and kitchen thrice, I was still cup-o-joe less. The innovation, perhaps a little sticker button that would go woo-oo-woo-oo after a minute of inactivity, would be as significant and life-saving as a locating beacon on a submarine. IContinue reading “Cliffhangering”
Young Love
In third grade, my boyfriend was Trevor Gibson. When he played wall ball at recess, I played ponies on the four-square court. Ponies is basically what it sounds like; a few girls and I pretended to be horses. One day when I got locked up in a pretend barn stall, I told someone I neededContinue reading “Young Love”
Burning Down The House
“Your cabin is torqued.” James, our contractor-turned-friend, told Dave and me pre-covid about our ocean getaway. Maybe, he said, it’d collapse if he leveled it. Or perhaps it would be just fine—no way to know until after the dice were thrown. One night – before leveling – Dave, few-month-old Evelyn, and I arrived late inContinue reading “Burning Down The House”
Quittin’ Time
I’m distracting myself because writing feels like a job. A job I don’t want and one I have to wake up at 4 am to commute far too long to make barely enough money for the water bill. Since Thanksgiving is this week, I’m thinking about gratitude. And how I’m not the best at it.Continue reading “Quittin’ Time”
Somewhere With You
Heading to Toronto, riding the rails. Strands of lights under eaves brighten the shadows. I step into the light of which I’m not. Oddly lovely are the people. A stranger in the cafeteria can’t cope with being known. That blonde, of course she sees, the hate within her like gun powder. A conveyor belt toContinue reading “Somewhere With You”
Going On 40 