Tag Archives: midlife crisis


Even though they had holes in them, I kept wearing the same socks. I walked the back yard in my socks when it wasn’t wet. Charlotte was up at the trampoline and I went back up to apologize for what … Continue reading

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

The first death

The dog’s warm tongue on my cheek, the den by the window where the sun comes in to expose the hair on my carpet, the dust on the lamps, the dirt on my legs from the morning’s hike. Going up … Continue reading

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

Frost circus, Portland

Peeling potatoes I took off my finger tip and imagined a piece of it there among the red bliss skins in the sink, something small and pink you’d find on a beach. But it got me out of cooking, and … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, parenting, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , | 18 Comments

This time on earth

Where does it go, when the hair recedes—and why does it leave? And will I go like that too, without any notice but more a long, slow fade like snow thawing in a field— And are we just that then, … Continue reading

Posted in death, poetry | Tagged , , , , , , , , , | 7 Comments

There’s a happy feeling nothing in the world can buy

Dawn had to take Charlotte out of the restaurant for bad behavior while Lily and I stayed behind and split an order of deep-fried, green tea ice cream, reminiscing about Christmases past, starting with one in Ireland that led to … Continue reading

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

(Nothing but) blood

Mom and I got down to the bar at 3 o’clock and ordered a boulevardier. I would have asked for an Old Pal but didn’t want to sound pretentious. We then walked up to the steakhouse so we could get … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Refraction (- – – — — — – – -)

Charlotte and I tried to play Scrabble but got frustrated, and dumped all the tiles back in the box. The best we came up with was Mosaic and Pirana, Pirana hers, not exactly right, needing an H or a symbol … Continue reading

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