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In these long sad days, I remember things… important things. How to breathe, how to sit, how to move. The shape of my skin stretched across muscle and bone. The hows and whens and whys of being alone… because that is how it will be at the last breath. /… Continue Reading At the last breath…
Our elementary school was starting a band program. Everyone on the bus was all abuzz after the day’s assembly where the instruments were paraded out and played before our wondering eyes and ears. “I’m going to play the flute,” says one girl, bouncing in her seat. “Me too!” parrot several… Continue Reading How Velvet Verbosity Came to Play the Trombone
There were acres and acres of land on Heather’s farm. We explored every inch of it that summer. We imagined ourselves as wild horses and ran with the real ones through the pastures and over the soft ground of the woods. Our long hair flew out behind us. We ran… Continue Reading 100 Words on Grace – Childhood
In Shannock the best sledding hill is my backyard. On snow days all the kids from the neighborhood gather there, dragging their bladed sleds and blue saucers. The “hill” is an enormous bowl in the ground…a crater. So we have contests to see who can make a run down the… Continue Reading Oh the Thrill of it All
Montreal, 2000 / Digg this / Stumble this
Nick
Dear readers,This is Post III in the “Things That are…” series. It is meant to be a call and response. I do hope that you will add your own items to the list in the comments. “If the study to which you apply yourself has a tendency to weaken your… Continue Reading Things That are…Simple Pleasures
Nick
Just finished reading an essay by Margaret Atwood on pornography. Here is some of what she had to say: “This leads us back to the key question: what’s the harm? Nobody knows, but this society should find out fast, before the saturation point is reached. The Scandinavian studies that showed… Continue Reading Where do We Draw the Line?
Nick
As I tuck her in, she says, “Mom, I love you so much. Please don’t ever die.” Her tone is matter of fact, no trace of worry, but she is quite serious. / Digg this / Stumble this
Nick
My first bike crash is at the hands of our neighborhood bully. I am 4 or 5 years old, riding my red tricycle down the uneven sidewalk, back and forth between my front drive and the tree that marks the end of our property. She is there, behind the tree,… Continue Reading Crashes…
