I was fortunate . . . for a while, but now, I guess you could say I’m of an age where I’ve begun to go to more funerals. Beyond losing one much-loved cousin—barely out of her twenties—to breast cancer, I hadn’t really lost anyone close to me. But soon, death, a snowball, became an avalanche.
Much has happened since last we met, oh say, almost two years ago! I’ll blame a larger percentage of my blogging derailment on a career change. I was finally, after years of applying, give an opportunity to teach college English which turned out to be all-consuming. As of January 1st, however, I was offered a
One of my first assignments this term for my MFA lyric essay class is to keep a weekly journal. Despite my love of writing and despite the purchase of all the cute journaling accoutrements—colored pens, journal with writerly mantra on the cover, and irresistible Etsy stickers—I have not, as yet, been able to discipline myself
All writers have experienced waking in the middle of the night with some of our best ideas. When that happens, we feel compelled to capture that inspiration before it floats away on a dream which is why many of us get so little sleep. It’s also why we keep small notebooks, cell phones, or even
Steve is all I remember of his name although I doubt we were permitted to refer to him in such an informal manner. He was slim, wore heavy, horn-rimmed glasses, and had funny, fuzzy hair of which, no one ever considered making fun of. He was a powerhouse of knowledge and energy, and the entire
Today, I’m sailing from land, toes curling in the sand, beneath the shade of my beach umbrella while I watch a sailboat far away at sea. It’s been awhile since I last set foot on deck, but the experience of sailing somehow remains, things you don’t forget like the burble and splash of water against
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