I see them often when I run, three of them, a small family of two dogs and their mistress, walking in the sunshine. Today, they move slowly, hampered by the wagon the woman tows and the fact that the larger of the dogs is missing a front leg. They amble along the path by the
I think I was around twelve when I decided that doing a backflip off the high dive would conquer my fear of leaping from the platform. Such a tactic was new for me as I am not impetuous and tend to shirk confrontation, but off the edge I leapt. It was hours before the red
Unidentified flying objects that feel suspiciously furry brush against my face as our group treks through dense foliage on our way to the beach guided only by the moon. Advised to wear long sleeves and pants, despite the heat of a June evening in South Florida, I’m glad we obeyed. When we finally reach our
There are many shops lining the streets of Oia. The trick is to get there before the tourists, as the sun is climbing but hasn’t yet reached its peak. It is peaceful now with only a small handful of wanderers. Merchants open their doors according to no particular schedule. Some are open while others are
Every Wednesday morning they arrive separately, he with a dignified Airedale Terrier, she with a mutt of undetermined lineage. Her hair is silvery, his hands gnarled and twisted. They sit close together among the sea oats, shoulders touching while the dogs frisk about. On chilly days like today, they’ll bring coffee, huddling against the wind,
As our van winds along roads flanked by dry fields—it is the dry season in Sicily—and through tunnels too numerous to count, I find both foreign and familiar things to observe. The navy-blue Mediterranean stretches far to one side of our vehicle while hilly fields of dried golden grasses or crops, bolstered by stone, step
I have never found myself in a position where I couldn’t write something down. Ideas float away so quickly, I’ve taken great pains and spent a great deal of money to ensure I am able to pin them down somehow. I have a lovely little HP laptop at home and a Chromebook I carry everywhere.
It takes a lot for me to yell at someone. My family might disagree, since they think I yell all the time. “Who left this mess?” “Pick up your underwear!” “Is anyone planning to walk the dog before she goes on the floor?” What they think is yelling, however, is actually nagging, and as the