It is this time, I think to myself on the couch, that I will want to keep with me forever.
travel
The red thread
All the store fronts had their hours posted but it didn’t matter because I couldn’t for the life of me remember what day it was. The names shrank away when I focused on the letters and returned no results. And… Read More ›
That last Christmas in Cork
Reposting the story of the Christmas we spent in West Cork, 2016. We debated what to do with the uneaten ham. It was impractical to stuff it in the car with all our things, tacky to leave it behind for… Read More ›
Letters and passageways (4): Cathar country
This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. Allanah and Gregory seem to me a bit bats. It’s more Allanah with her self-taught fortune telling, Gregory’s… Read More ›
Letters and passageways (3): Rob and Paul
This is a series of rewritten journal entries from the summer I spent in the south of France, the first entry here. Rob and Paul seem like an unlikely gay couple to me, not knowing what gay couples are supposed… Read More ›
Song for late summer
The kids take pictures of me napping at unflattering angles. The first colors of fall start along the highway: the pink-purple fireweed against the green, the coming yellows and browns. Those black spruces leaning in the muskeg, long patches of… Read More ›
The wind through our windows, Anchorage
We tottered down the runway, wriggling inside the plane. Pale lead morning, 18 years since I’d flown to Alaska. That weekend before 9/11, the end of the tourist season, closing down the shops. Our kids now taking pictures outside the… Read More ›
