Category Archives: Writings

I think back to when my grandma’s brother and his wife parked their RV in my grandma’s driveway. Living next door, I had prime real estate for eavesdropping (eyedropping?). At the time, I’d never even heard of people living that way. My grandmother disapproved, of course, but to me they seemed glamorous—like runway models, onlyContinue reading “Imagine It’s National Waffle Day”

It’s on the tip of my tongue, the tip of my toes—this reachless thought calling my name. Likely good medicine, the kind needing a prescription, followed to a T. That’s not me. Yet, doctor’s orders. It’s a longing to lay outstretched, muscles unloaded, the permission and the push to unknot my knots. A shift—the flipContinue reading “The Eaglet and Me”

I’m seated beside a nightlight, listening to the softest little yawn. Evelyn shifts in her crisp white sheets on the top bunk, another yawn escaping. This morning, Maddie came sprinting across the sand gap between our rentals, arm outstretched with a pink, blue, and purple turtle bracelet. Pointing straight at Evelyn, she declared: “I gotContinue reading “The Turtle Whisperer”

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”

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”

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”

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”

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”