Tag Archives: aging

Music for airports

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

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

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

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

The Fall of 2015 | 90-day family road trip, UK

We were living in Germany but didn’t have a visa and had to leave for three months, had to leave the Schengen and most of Western Europe: so we decided on the UK because they spoke English there and we … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, travel | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , | 19 Comments

The parallax view phenomenon

Light frost on the grass, wet snow on the mountain passes. Just me and the ducks at the lake, when they paddle by they make a V that fans out and disappears. The morning sky’s a watercolor like the ones … Continue reading

Posted in musings, parenting | Tagged , , , , , , , | 24 Comments

October’s solemn smile

Thank god for the gold-red leaves for without them, I think there’d be no color. Old relatives like dead leaves fall off shriveled-brown-unnoticed and swept to the side, the cold takes them, a different kind of harvest. In the morning … Continue reading

Posted in musings, poetry, prose | Tagged , , , , | 10 Comments