Wishes die slowly, fighting with every kick and punch and gasp. But wishes– dreams– are fanciful things made most of midnight talks and music full of empty drums and open spaces. Dreams are born of a lonely heart, twenty-two years too long, and hope like a prune. Loneliness is the twin to dreams. It is … Continue reading Two Sides of a Coin
#creative non-fiction
They Break so Easily
I keep expecting things to shatter. I pick up my French press, the dishwater drips, suds slip down its sides. I think: the noise this thing will make if I drop it… I can almost feel the shards bounce around my toes, crystal and sharp, winking in the light. I can hear the smash, the … Continue reading They Break so Easily
Impostor Syndrome
I sit at my computer biting my nails. It's a bad habit I fall into when I'm highly anxious. I scroll through the screen reading submission guidelines and articles in Literary Journals and magazines. What is it about reading other people's work that makes one feel inadequate? I stare at the glossy photos of the … Continue reading Impostor Syndrome
Everything and Nothing
The downy quilt of winter has returned. Front yards spill white toward the dark, wet slash of the street. Garlands festoon the front of my neighbors' houses. I've decorated for Christmas myself, and I find life settling into that familiar hectic holiday pace. When to write! The snatched moments come between car rides and family … Continue reading Everything and Nothing
Things Change
Working from home you must adjust your expectations of the mornings. No more stumbling across darkened parking lots fumbling for your key fob. No more friendly banter in office hallways. No more gossip before you settle in. The highlight of the morning now is a glass-walled Bodum french press. The squeak of my cupboard door, … Continue reading Things Change
Maybe It’s Strange
Maybe it’s strange, but I really don’t mind the darker mornings in the fall. There’s something cozy about the dark pressed up against my window panes, and the way it makes the light inside my house seem more golden. I enjoy the extended mornings because in the summer, I’m usually awake as soon as the … Continue reading Maybe It’s Strange
Apocalypse Over
They hobble toward me through the early morning fog. Dawn has not yet broken, and the sky above the fog is slate gray and steely. Porch lights and street lights are pinpricks of blue, star-shaped sparkles high above the street. But the figures coming toward me are huddled and shapeless. Their toes seem to find … Continue reading Apocalypse Over
Never Come Up For Air
I wish sometimes I could just live in a book and never come up for air. I think of all the stolen moments of my childhood, holed up in my bedroom diving into worlds of espionage, 18th century Britain-- even worlds made up from myth, legend, and hearty imagination. I remember sunny afternoons on a … Continue reading Never Come Up For Air
New Religion
Are we just the sum of everything we’ve ever said? Does this include the angry things? The drunken confessions. Distracted outbursts. And misery fueled rants, colored by depression, pain, or anxiety. If everything we’ve ever said is sitting in the docket, which of us would receive acquittal from our judges? If the real you or … Continue reading New Religion
Saddlebags and Zip Ties
I reach down to open the saddlebag on my boyfriend's Harley, and realize, once the top springs free, that the back half of the bag is no longer attached to the bike. "Oh. Uh-oh," I say, wiggling the hard bag up and down. "The back bolt is gone on this saddlebag." "Seriously?!" My boyfriend pops … Continue reading Saddlebags and Zip Ties
Seeking Prose 