After a fajita dinner, I carried a Tommy Bahama chair, a book, and some ice water down to the beach. The sun hung three-quarters of a sideways hand above the horizon—yes, I actually measured like that—which meant I had about twenty minutes until sunset. I waded out onto a spongey white sandbar and plopped down.Continue reading “An Evening in the Sand”
Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl
The Day I Prescribed Hope
Sparkling and clear, like a freshly polished wine glass, is the memory of you. Both of you. The vitality, the attentiveness, clung to me like a snug Velcro band. It wasn’t parental or serious—it was fun, different. Your looks, your play with me glances, felt magical, like tasting cotton candy for the first time. ItContinue reading “The Day I Prescribed Hope”
The Action of Balance
What does balance look like when we’re wobbling on the front padding of our foot on a beam 100 feet up in the air? First off, doing it alone is not how. Rule one: You need others. One is ok, two is supreme, and anything more is cowabunga. They hold your life rafts, the WickedContinue reading “The Action of Balance”
The Smoldering Image: A Poem
I’m worried writing is taking a back seat. Its value is vast—it’s the oiling of an old cast iron pan, the whittling of a poplar branch, the rubbed leather of grandpa’s favorite rocker. I worry I’ve grown too good at letting it slip. Like that Thai food place, with its masaman or tom kha andContinue reading “The Smoldering Image: A Poem”
Releasing Butterflies with Jimmy Carter’s Son
When I saw the white Plains text flash by on the green highway sign, and realized it wouldn’t even add time to our Florida drive, the choice was easy: left instead of straight. It’d be a quick stop to check out Jimmy Carter’s newly opened gravesite in Plains, Georgia – as it was on myContinue reading “Releasing Butterflies with Jimmy Carter’s Son”
Get Back Here Shadow
I’m feeling meh. You know the kind. And I don’t want to explain it—it’s just there. So I retreat, happy enough in my turtle shell hotel. I’ve got all the amenities: a thick duvet, headphones, and a dark corner to stare into. I don’t need much. In fact, it’s best to have almost nothing. Still,Continue reading “Get Back Here Shadow”
Spartacus, Hissy, and a Two-Inch Tub
I’m sitting in Evelyn’s room, the neon light from her cloud-ridged bed frame cycling through red, green, blue, and yellow, fading softly into each hue. The double bed’s warm glow was definitely a good purchase for her. Today was a “clean Evelyn’s bedroom” day. At first, Dave resisted my idea of taking everything that wasn’tContinue reading “Spartacus, Hissy, and a Two-Inch Tub”
Somatic Marker Hypothesis
I operate at a high bit rate—but the fact that hummingbirds operate at a thousand speeds faster means that when I watch them, I relax. Their energy—back and forth, face and fight, in and out for sips, and gone again—becomes something I can hitch my wagon to. I ride along with them, then unhitch, slamContinue reading “Somatic Marker Hypothesis”
Dreaming In Color
Every time I walk by the new-to-me treadmill, I swear I hear its syrupy judgments. “All that downtime, staying barefoot? Can’t put on some tennis shoes? Looks like someone’s avoiding me.” It sits there, looming—watching me when I breeze into the office, when I sit down to schedule clients, or when I casually pass byContinue reading “Dreaming In Color”
Digging Up Bones
The magician never reveals his tricks, but I sure wish he would—because then I’d know how Dave and I managed the impossible. Okay, mostly Dave. Still, somehow we dismantled a dinosaur-sized—and dinosaur-aged—treadmill, freeing it from the shackles of Kim’s space off her garage. It’s just a Monday, but knocking out a Herculean feat before noonContinue reading “Digging Up Bones”
Going On 40 