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
Meditations
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
The Pause Between Books
There's a special moment-- like a breath or a pause-- between books. Maybe it's not even a breath or a pause, but rather a dangling over empty space. A loose end. Whenever this moment comes, I feel like someone who's walked into a room but can't remember why they're there. What was I doing? What … Continue reading The Pause Between Books
The Clouds that Muck Up Our Hearts
When the rain finally breaks and the autumn sun returns, my heart feels a little lighter. It's comforting to watch the leaves sparkle in the wind and to remember there is more to life than just gray and dreary and dreadful things. Sometimes we need the spears of sunshine to pierce through the clouds that … Continue reading The Clouds that Muck Up Our Hearts
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
October Memory
The October colors have come to full display. Russet, ochre, lime, and amber. Misty morning fog hangs above the hills and sprinkles the windshield opaque, like a stained glass window, painted by nature, colored by time. Speeding through the fog and rain. Empty road. Full horizon, hilltops multipling to the edge of sight. A half … Continue reading October Memory
There is Hope in This
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
Seeking Prose 