Tag Archives: aging

‘Time after time’

Posted on June 11, 2018 by

My dog is 42, but could still pass for 30. Life in seven year increments, a year at a time. Cork screwing the side of Cougar Mountain, past the Klondike marsh through the damp forest thinking about Orin Smith, former … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 22 Comments

‘Clockwise’

Posted on May 31, 2018 by

Around this time of day my eye starts to twitch and I have to hold it to make it stop. There’s the old wall clock in the living room that’s slow, needs help keeping up – then the clock in … Continue reading →

Posted in musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , | 17 Comments

The number 4 airshaft seam to Primrose Mine

Posted on May 13, 2018 by

I woke at 4, fell back to sleep until 5, then dreamt again and got up. If dreams can be categorized the same as data (unstructured, structured, or semi-structured), then mine qualify as ‘semi-.’  I got to the trailhead early … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, musings, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 11 Comments

Music for airports

Posted on April 14, 2018 by

At the far end of the couch, where the dog waits for us when we’re gone, I laid my book and my head down and looked outside at the gray and the green. We were still on east coast time, … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 27 Comments

Iceland spar

Posted on April 13, 2018 by

Friday, April 13 Allentown, PA Between me and the homeless guy the table remained open the whole time I sat at the Starbucks. I wrote and watched him from the corner of my eye stirring his coffee. Three regulars at … Continue reading →

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

Dead selves cleft off

Posted on February 22, 2018 by

Though it snowed, it looked like fake snow, like film set snow, as I walked across the grocery store parking lot, past the primroses for sale all covered in plastic. I checked out a curry restaurant on a side strip-mall … Continue reading →

Posted in identity, Memoir, parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 14 Comments

12 Türkengasse

Posted on December 5, 2017 by

If you believe in souls, or souls without homes they call spirits, than you can keep yourself occupied in my mom’s house imagining them. It can also make you nuts—mom says it’s hardest living alone here this time of year. … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, travel | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments