I had to let go of the ring. The ring was gone. The ring came off when I removed my work gloves, fell to the ground, a garden bed. The ring lay unnoticed for a time on its side. The… Read More ›
Creative Nonfiction
Middle-age, Death is at the foot of your bed
You stand for a moment fitting your pack and wonder, is it too late for me to set out? The dream metaphor is this: I’m busy packing, gathering my things at the car. I have the lift gate open and… Read More ›
Cordless
The bright red Mickey Mouse socks my kids gave me before the pandemic were now going pink and faded with holes opening at the heels. These socks, like so many things in my life, held small resonance. They meant something… Read More ›
Through the gap in Shakespeare’s garden
A woodsy scent of burning cedar and spice. The languid winter hours spent by the window with the lull of rain thumbing the gutters and panes. “Through the gap in Shakespeare’s garden,” that’s the phrase I borrowed from the guy… Read More ›
Farmers’ almanac
I read the weather forecast and despite the gloom, felt good about living in the Pacific Northwest again. The mild winters, the sing-song pattern to the forecasts: rain changing to showers, showers changing to rain. Heavy rain tapering off before… Read More ›
White noise
Somehow one screen wasn’t enough. You could never take it all in. The volume of pleasure, the entertainment was more than we could consume but somehow never enough. It rushed in through the windows like a car gone off a… Read More ›
The day we went to Wahlheim
In the morning I came downstairs and turned on the portable heater. The neighbor had her Advent lights on in the window, and I turned ours on too and then made the coffee. I lit a candle and a stick… Read More ›
The richness of the present
The toilet angled sideways, the doorways hung low. The door sagged on its hinges and the old wooden beams that made up the ceiling, they were slanted too. Everywhere you looked, there was something to see: a white patterned fabric… Read More ›
Auf dem Kies
Slinking about the town we stick to the edges like rats, we climb the old stone walls sideways. The old stone walls that bulge beneath the fachwerk, that flank the village to the north and south. The village that has… Read More ›
The LinkedIn post I didn’t post on LinkedIn
David Alfe was twice my age when he went to work for me at the Starbucks store on South Street, Philadelphia. He had run restaurants and was a lot more qualified than me to manage the store but he was… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 