Tag Archives: creative nonfiction

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

Killing the Tree of Heaven

Posted on April 10, 2018 by

We went back to the east coast by way of Newark, and though it was spring break we made the kids wear coats, and I packed a scarf. We got a rental car and drove to my grandmother’s house in … Continue reading →

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 30 Comments

Sonata in C major, “rites of spring”

Posted on April 3, 2018 by

Spring cleaning comes when I just can’t take it anymore. All the cobwebs we haven’t seen, the dust, the feeling the whole house smells. Everything needs to be taken apart and blown out. A half pot of coffee followed by … Continue reading →

Posted in humor, Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 16 Comments

Love and work (and when it doesn’t work out)

Posted on April 1, 2018 by

Crossing into April, Dawn and I were getting ready to be married. But the weather had been so nice every weekend for three weekends straight, we worried our luck wouldn’t hold out. All of us met at a lodge in … Continue reading →

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

Moss-petting in Portland (March, ’18)

Posted on March 22, 2018 by

Signs for deaf children, hand-painted Volvo’s, driving into Portland on a Friday night. By morning the rain had brought down the cherry blossom blooms like confetti, and the children across the street were young enough they could walk on walls … Continue reading →

Posted in humor, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 20 Comments

The first of the 7 o’clock sunsetso

Posted on March 11, 2018 by

Sunday, the first day +60 degrees in a long time. In the morning under the trees it sounds like the birds are filling into the auditorium, taking their seats. They all know when to come back and they all know … Continue reading →

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