Up before the sun. Outside my windows, streetlights shower diffused light down through fog and mist that stalk white beneath the trees. The street is an alternating pattern of shadow and light. I stand inside my neon-lit bathroom, half-awake now as I braid my hair, pop contacts into my eyes, and yawn. Stumbling through my … Continue reading Runner’s High
The town is a throwback sort of town--the kind that experienced renaissance for about twenty years after World War II and then slowly began sporting vacant and fading storefronts like gaps in an aging man’s teeth. Its claim to fame is suffrage and some fictional movie that the current generation finds a symptom more than … Continue reading A Throwback Sort of Town
Seneca Lake. Motorcycle ride. Close my eyes and let the roar of the wind buffet away the fears, the tears, and the fright of the future. I uncurl my fingers and open them, palm wide, into the flow of the air as it rushes past. I let it untangle all of the strands I’ve been … Continue reading There is Hope in This
If I could write you a love story, I would write of far away woods tucked into mountain folds and of twisting roads under autumn leaves. Brooks that babble down rocky ravines. And somewhere above the valley floor, a little cabin that is ours. I would wash away the worries and the grime, the cares … Continue reading Happily Here and Now
Standing at the top of the mountain pass, the crags of the summit hang above us. The parking area is scooped out from the side of the mountain, and a small hut with restrooms and concession counter sits back between the gray folds of a sheer cliff. I am only seven. I have a bladder … Continue reading Prompt: The Farthest You’ve Been From Home
Road trips always begin in optimism. Even road trips on a motorcycle.