It was the first night this year that didn’t fall so hard. If it had been a theater production and a light cue, they changed the fadeout from 30 seconds to 60. Though unseen, hope stirred underground and you could… Read More ›
parenting
All the walls are fake
Lily got a 4.0 grade point average her first trimester in middle school, Student of the Month award, two certificates, did a pirouette as she announced it, shook her hips, raised one foot over her head in a yoga pose… Read More ›
The 87
It’s almost time to go. The body snaps back like the rubber on a slingshot, hangs there limp for what’s next. The clock has a tick too. The cat understands no schedule. The rain has been going all night, it… Read More ›
The blood in my dad’s beard
The blood in my dad’s beard hardly looked real, more red-orange than ruddy, almost clown-like, but terrifying when he stretched his neck tendons and tightened his jaw, his eyes rolling like an animal in distress to show a lot of… Read More ›
Father and daughter
One day you will notice what the days do, how they curl and build and fall apart like the waves, most times indistinct, sometimes disappearing like socks in a drawer you can’t find, they fold over on themselves and get separated… Read More ›
Early autumn mixer
In the morning the moon was a hook and we sat under it going down. Lily and I went birthday shopping for Charlotte intent on a guitar and a bake set but came out with a $120 giraffe. No one… Read More ›
90s nostalgia: Chauncy Gardiner | ‘Threading Through Time’
We’re winding down the pieces I’m featuring for a 90s nostalgia theme, brought on by the 25th anniversary of Nirvana’s breakthrough release Nevermind. Today’s featured writer is Chauncy Gardiner, whose blog I’ve been following for a few years, with daily… Read More ›
This bag is not a toy
Dawn’s cell phone alarm goes off in bed but she lies there listening to the rain thinking about work and I lie there doing the same, thinking about acquiring some. The rain collects in a corner outside, it’s probably something… Read More ›
The last days before the equinox
Fall’s moody shadows, pine needles, leaves: all that starts from above one day will drop, past the mountain peaks Jack Kerouac walked, they probably looked the same to him too, it’s hard to believe those photos of people in the… Read More ›
Frou-frou foxes in midsummer fires
I dropped the kids off at theater camp with the other awkward-looking children not cut out for sports, pale and withdrawn, future artists: and Charlotte’s outfit, a riot of stripes and patterns — she’s still doing that thing where she… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 