Tag Archives: nostalgia

‘Here we were’

It was so warm outside I could write with my shirt off in the shade. The maple tree by the sports court looked like one of the figures on Easter Island with its long face, except for the bat house … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 6 Comments

‘Time after time’

My dog is 42, but could still pass for 30. Life in seven year increments, a year at a time. Cork screwing the side of Cougar Mountain, past the Klondike marsh through the damp forest thinking about Orin Smith, former … Continue reading

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

The god of only children

For some reason when I’m in Portland I feel like I can be more myself, maybe because no one knows me here. I wake and walk down César Chávez to the Starbucks in the cool, marine air. And remember the … Continue reading

Posted in death, prose, travel, writing | Tagged , , , , , , | 18 Comments

Killing the Tree of Heaven

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

Moss-petting in Portland (March, ’18)

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

Last night on 29th place, SE

We really lived in that house, if it was the wrapping we were the candy, the present, and inside there stirred our souls and the house bore witness and the calendar pages flipped, the seasons passed, our photos on the … Continue reading

Posted in poetry | Tagged , , , , , , | 4 Comments

Discreet Music | December 30, 2017

Whole Foods grocery store (Redmond, Washington) I sat outside the Whole Foods eating lunch, reading, waiting for my car to get done at the Les Schwab next door. Donnie returned the Patti Smith book I gave him and I was … Continue reading

Posted in Memoir, prose, writing | Tagged , , , , , , , , , , | 12 Comments