Wayne stands in line at the service desk of his local box store. He bounces from heel to toe as he waits and fidgets with his mask, then remembers he shouldn’t touch it and rests his hand at his side. The lone woman working the service desk chomps gum (perhaps thinking her mask hides it?) … Continue reading Re-Entry
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My Own Emptiness
A cold November day floats flakes of flurries on its cutting breeze. A wide table in a sun-bright room is stacked with papers at its head. We file in, five of us: the closing agent, the officer from the bank, my real estate agent, and the buyer’s agent. My attorney flicks through the pages waiting … Continue reading My Own Emptiness
Applause
All of a sudden, the gray skies open and lose their payload. Sheets of rain cascade past my windows and strum amidst the pebbles in my driveway. Their chorus floats back to me faintly through the closed window– a throaty song rather like a wide arena filled with applause. But who is it the rain … Continue reading Applause
Saying Goodbye
The boxes stand packed in the entryway like little sentinels at the bottom of the stairs. A hush permeates the house, which is unusual for this house. No one screeches down the hall or thumps up the stairs. No echo of shattering glass trills from the kitchen. Olivia walks through the rooms one by one, … Continue reading Saying Goodbye
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
Holiday Madness
The holiday lines snake around the front of the store. People hesitate in confusion as to where to stand or where to go. The required six feet of space between people casts the queues into confusing tangles. Registers beep. Cart wheels whirr. Almost everyone looks at their toes or adjusts their masks. They scrunch their … Continue reading Holiday Madness
Broken Memory
Every day he arrives, hooks his cane over the end of her bed, and settles into the chair beside her. He always brings her treats-- candy, flowers, cupcakes, cards written in shaky handwriting she feels obligated to recognize. Some days she sits in a chair by the window; other days her frail limbs are wrapped … Continue reading Broken Memory
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
Holding Hands, Not Meeting Hearts
God, these people, Jay thinks. He tries hard not to arch his head back or roll his eyes. It’s bad enough that he can't keep the sneer of scorn from his lips. “Well, how do you like that, global warming people?” the minister says in passing. They alway take their hits in passing. Religious people. … Continue reading Holding Hands, Not Meeting Hearts
When Moms Explode
Post-pandemic family dinners have become dangerous and shaky ground. Allison feels the anxiety coat her bowels before she even gets out of bed. Thanksgiving used to be her favorite, but now with multiple families and multiple worldviews and every bit of life a hot-button issue, she just wants to pull the covers over her head. … Continue reading When Moms Explode
Seeking Prose 