Author Archives: Jaclynn Loibl

On my laptop screen, tabs stack up: The Blind Boys of Alabama, Smallwood Home print shop, Headway, and the document I keep open to write my blog. I started the morning watching Peter Gabriel’s 2002 live concert, where the rich, soulful sound of The Blind Boys of Alabama filled the air. Seeing their age onContinue reading “The Night Before Five”

I’m a messy human—and still, I’m worthy of love. These past two months have stretched me in medieval ways as if my mind were on some ancient torture rack. I’ve been caught in a cycle, thinking I’m making real progress, only to find myself right back on the hamster wheel, in the same place IContinue reading “Living a Double Life”

We’ve appointed a felon into office—one who has on video said it’s okay “to grab women by the pussy.” He is a disgusting pig of a man who has twice been given the most power in our country. The delusion and chaos in people’s minds are part of the problem, but so are the decadesContinue reading “Fuck Trump”

The past clings to me like a shadow, haunting me with whispers that chill my bones. I didn’t fully realize how close it was, how much it weighed on me, until shame’s darkness washed over me, and the tears streamed down my face. It felt like I was trapped in it—bearing the blame, like aContinue reading “Echoes to Then”

Shopping for eggs has its own charm out here in the country. I just head out across the pasture, near the family’s garden, and past the new apple, peach, and plum trees to a dilapidated and weathered round hay bale. That’s where the “Easter basket” sits, always full of surprises. The other day it heldContinue reading “Back to Boring”

This exercise was fun. There’s no action or characters, it’s simply describing a place or a space. Enjoy! It’s December. Frost clings to the glass, the contrast between inside and outside are as stark as night and day. Outside, things are brown, brittle, and fading; inside, it’s a small, green world holding onto life. WeContinue reading “Descriptive Prose: A Writing Exercise”

Somewhere in middle America, a family of 10 to 20 will gather, seated in a circle in the living room, their spirits lifted despite the reason for their being there. Story after story will spill from their hearts, as if their entire lives have been woven together into a quilt, stitched together for just thisContinue reading “Grieving Well”

I sat there like a freshly cut stump, thinking about the direction of my life. With my body planted on the shower’s tiled floor, water poured over my head, streaming down my neck, arms, back, and legs. Just like every other time I’d broken down on a shower floor, seeking the heat’s healing properties, IContinue reading “Flowers on the Wall”

Just before the sweet pull of sleep dragged me under, I had a brilliant lightbulb moment for this post. But when I finally woke up after a ten-minute snooze, my battery felt recharged, yet poof—the brilliance had vanished into that invisible space where neglected thoughts go to die. I’m feeling somber. Otis Redding’s “(Sittin’ On)Continue reading “The Best of Me”