Category Archives: Writings

Tonight, we’ll sleep in Pray, Montana, in a canvas tent the size of a hotel room. It’s fabulous here. With thick rugs, a plush and long leather couch, and fixings for s’mores in the refrigerator, the little extras feel kind and giving, whereas, in hotels, I feel slimy and taken advantage of. Dave and EvelynContinue reading “Cross Country Move: Coeur d’Alene, ID to Pray, MT – Day 2 – 4.4/5 Stars”

I do this thing. I compare. My dream to yours, and as you know, mine is better. But that’s not quite true, is it? Mine is mine. And yours is yours. And sometimes, when they overlap, the water’s wake mists my cheeks while listening to 90’s era Sugar Ray, I wonder if there is anythingContinue reading “Blast Off”

I feel the tug at my heart, the pang of sadness. Thinking about the past few days spent with my parents, there’s a low, low that hits without warning. Whoa, I think, feeling its rush pass over me like a tidal wave over a bulkhead. After the feeling, a new wave of doubt enters: AreContinue reading “Wave on Wave”

Writing isn’t flowing tonight. I feel the jerkiness of a poor clutch driver as I move from sentence to sentence and paragraph to paragraph. I’m tired of thinking about stuff—flooring, patio furniture, faucets, and more. Although necessary, my mind is constantly collecting data. For example, earlier at Kristen’s, Kevin brought a replica of a skullContinue reading “There is a Season”

I’m taking things moment by moment, like picking up an opened clam shell at our family reunion today. With my pincher fingers, I used the bottom shell with the meaty bit attached to it and dunked it in melty garlic butter. That’s how Dean Moergeli of the Moergeli clan does it: he brings a three-foot-tallContinue reading “Seafood Surprise”

I have a forehead like a dartboard that’s all bullseye. Its lack of bangs makes it curtain-free, exposing it to the elements. My good ol’ mom’s early positive comments like, “You have a beautiful forehead,” and telling every hairdresser, “Do not cut bangs,” must have stuck. As with any resilient and optimistic story, there areContinue reading “Chrome Dome”

I don’t want to talk about it. I brush past you with a dramatic flick of the wrist, as your hair blows behind you like Fabio’s. My flamboyant peacock display makes what I say a thunderous pronouncement, like that of a new ruler. But I’m just bluffing. The chasm of despair is only a sliverContinue reading “Sombrero Pigeons”