Category Archives: writing

Hello and goodbye

Posted on May 16, 2019 by

Everyone wanted to know how my hypnotherapy session went, including me. It took a while to relax because I’d hurried there from work and had to rub my eyes to make the GANTT charts go away. But when the meditation … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 18 Comments

That last Friday in April

Posted on April 26, 2019 by

Dawn quit her job so she could spend more time with the kids, and that meant her office was up for grabs. Dawn’s office is kind of ideal, with good morning light flanked by book shelves, and a door that … Continue reading →

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The first death

Posted on April 25, 2019 by

The dog’s warm tongue on my cheek, the den by the window where the sun comes in to expose the hair on my carpet, the dust on the lamps, the dirt on my legs from the morning’s hike. Going up … Continue reading →

Posted in death, Memoir, parenting, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 19 Comments

Down stellar stream

Posted on April 19, 2019 by

The rain is hypnotic like the static on the black and white TV I used to fall asleep to growing up. It was my first digital-assisted relaxation, when the programming ended and the Star-Spangled Banner played, and then it all … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 10 Comments

Call me rapture

Posted on April 18, 2019 by

All those sweet, heady blooms of spring came back, and outside it was warm and had just rained, it felt clammy and moist, so I got a beer and a lawn chair and collapsed into both. Dawn accumulated three heads … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 2 Comments

Outside the frame

Posted on April 17, 2019 by

I made plans to see friends I hadn’t seen in about 30 years, since high school. I took a Lyft to the bar and sat in a table by the front, and sent one of them a text: Pat fell … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 12 Comments

What was left

Posted on April 14, 2019 by

What was left in Charlotte’s bowl wasn’t worth saving. But I ate it on principle, so it wouldn’t go to waste. And there was an analogy in that, to going back to my hometown for our annual visit, gumming the … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 15 Comments