The firepit, my bloody toe. We slept with all the windows open and it felt like camping. Four years later and we finally moved that mound of soil to the vegetable garden. It takes a global pandemic for us to… Read More ›
journal writing
I wonder why the wind
The most perfect night. Perfect is a superlative, so it can’t be topped. There’s no “more perfect,” or most perfect, it’s fine on its own, it’s perfect. The first really warm day when everything takes on a different feel. The… Read More ›
Back and forth, again
I remember it’s the end of April and think back four years ago, when we came back from Germany.
It doesn’t go out like a lamb
They said everyone needs to work from home and the vibe on my floor was a kind of evacuation mode in slow-mo.
Sunday roadside stands
The rain fell so hard I stood in the doorway watching it, letting in the cool, clean air.
Spirit is time-reversed to your body
I remembered the smoked turkey we had in the meat locker from Easter and started fantasizing about eating a leg, just standing in the kitchen and taking it by hand.
A question of degrees
Upstairs someone was either crying or laughing.
Beneath a vernal moon
Just like it always did, the spring came back.
Ten years gone
I had a talk with Lily about the scenario where both mom and dad get sick and someone has to assume control of the house, which would fall to Lily.
No contact pizza
My beard was getting thick enough I could tug on it in a way that both hurt and felt good at the same time.
Bill Pearse 