Category Archives: Writings

With tiny hands, six of us family members took turns picking teammates and using the little grabbers to collect locks and gems in a new game Amazon dropped on our doorstep—a game my girlfriend swears by. It’ll likely become a fun ritual, and I can’t help but laugh at the teamwork and my $6 millionContinue reading “Slice of Life”

I have this sense I’m a bit dramatic, like I’m too much—just a Spanish soap opera star rolling her r’s until the screen fades to black. And even if that’s true, what’s wrong with a little extra pizazz, a few notches of passion cranked up, and a mighty glob of glamour? Nothing, that’s what. I’veContinue reading “Drama Queen Dreams”

In size 26.5 font, I write, “Another one of my teeth are wiggly,” for Evelyn. Written with an orange Crayola on white sketch paper, I’m not sure who note is for, but seeing her words all crammed together has me thinking: maybe ten minutes a day practicing letters would help. After forgetting to reset theContinue reading “Opa Says A Me”

Every blue moon, I find myself at a dead end in life’s maze. My decisions twist and turn, leading me to an abrupt stop that leaves me feeling lost. Do you ever get caught in that same mindset, until everything you’ve built feels like a house of toothpicks ready to collapse? In counseling sessions, whenContinue reading “An Orchard Is Born”

Evelyn’s off to her first friend sleepover, so Dave and I have the evening to ourselves with a date at the 9 pm Beetlejuice showing. Before movie time, though, I strapped on the Magnum Stihl blower—my own kind of ghost-busting tool! The driveway was littered with leaves and acorns, and at full speed, that blowerContinue reading “Let’s Make A Deal”

I ask myself what I need, but the silence sits heavy, like a weightless answer that’s missing its shape. I don’t know—truth be told, I don’t know anything these days. It’s that low, wistful hum from an indie song that finds my ear, whispering softly, “Before evermore.” She’s right, I suppose, but I turn away,Continue reading “Is There an Answer”

The cotton candy cloud of thought pulls us deeper, where the world feels softer, and lighter, and just as we drift to the other side, we’re met by that shiny black-hatted conductor. He’s polished, like the locomotive we board, and the mustache and white gloves are as crisp as the sound of that ticket tearing.Continue reading “The Ride: A Poem”

On the three-minute drive to my morning walk, there’s a marsh dotted with matchstick tree snags, like skeletal fingers reaching out of the water. Steam rises from the bowl-like surface at dusk, and while my eyes should be on the road, I’m constantly scanning for a bald eagle. Ever since I saw a photo ofContinue reading “The Shapeshifting Self”