April 30, 2011 § 6 Comments
The only good thing to be on a day this hot is a kid with a hose.
On the other side of the wire fence that separates our yards, my twelve-year-old neighbor, Dee, is busy being that perfect thing.
April 21, 2011 § 9 Comments
In America we are chronically restless. Movement defines us.
People and places we’ve loved, become fleeting images in the rearview mirror, the past discarded like a tossed candy wrapper.
It isn’t willful or done with malice, it is just that we are masters of moving on.
For the first time, the past we thought we’d left behind can look us up.
April 14, 2011 § 18 Comments
I wonder each week as I sit down to write a post for this blog, have I emptied the cupboard?
Is everything I know and feel already out there in black and white?
But week after week, like Dorothy Gale, I discover that to find what I’m searching for I need look no further than my own backyard.
When given more than a passing glance, the things I take for granted turn out to be the substance of my life, and far more nourishing than the wishful dreams my brain invents.
April 6, 2011 § 12 Comments
They kept to themselves, chatting quietly. Some slumped in wheelchairs, others leaned against the wheelchairs’ handles. Like a school of minnows seeking safety they huddled close together.