Mom said the irregularities got worse with age and so she carried a nail file everywhere. I think uneven nails was distracting for her. She’d remedy it right away with a quick file. I was surprised by how good it… Read More ›
Creative Nonfiction
Grays Harbor blues
I went back to La Push, my favorite coastal backpacking trek. The transition from the beach sounds of the tide to the overland trail, how the sound of the tide vanishes and is replaced by the quiet of the forest…. Read More ›
Going remote
All week with the deviled eggs. Dawn made too many for Easter brunch and now I eat about 11 a day (halves, not wholes). The morning moon thin as a sickle. I wonder if I’ll be able to see it… Read More ›
Bouquet from the 70s
Maybe five, old enough to climb a tree. The field between the apartment buildings where I grew up, age 0 to 12. Three memories: (1) A photo of me in the field that’s not really a memory but more the… Read More ›
Hot desking
Springtime as a young consultant though not really young, almost 48. An office of about 200 with capacity for 150 and me in the oldest 10%. Young consultants dressed to look older, older consultants headed the other way. Office chit… Read More ›
Cart boy
No one called me cart boy to my face but they probably did behind my back. That was the crux of my job, pushing reports on a Rubbermaid cart, dropping them off for each CSR. The reports were DOS-matrix style,… Read More ›
Voice entry no. 1, 4/18/25
‘Alright, first things first. Testing? Is this on. Ok. March — no, April! April what is it, April 18. Too many leftover Easter cookies, not that good. The dog smacking her lips, changing positions for another nap. Some bird makes… Read More ›
Burning man
Though it was early morning and a strange time to do it I lit a fire in the firepit with last night’s coals and the logs that were charred and dampened by the early morning rain. It could be hard… Read More ›
Shadow bandwidth
So alright, the mid-morning nap. On a workday. I’m not trying to sound boastful about napping while I’m working from home, or being paid to work but napping, which feels actually foreign and not altogether good. But then the meta… Read More ›
Common things
The gloves are still there, in the Honda’s hidden storage well beside the jumper cables. The gloves are leather and have a withered look, stiff and bent. They belonged to Dawn’s dad and I’ve kept them in the car since… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 