We stop at a rest area somewhere west of Ritzville. The girls go to the bathroom, and I take Ginger to the designated Pet Area. It’s starting to cool off, and the light is softening to that golden, early evening… Read More ›
parenting
Bean Creek
I felt under my pillow and found a piece of paper Lily put there, with a drawing of me and her, stick-figures, camping. I picked her up at the “Y” when she got off the bus Friday and we headed… Read More ›
Poems come like children
They are small things full of wonder that take a long time to produce — They don’t act the way you expect, but may be your best expression Fragile, strong, willful, watching: Your future, your past wrapped in a wish… Read More ›
The sports court
When we bought this house, it came with a sports court. That’s pretty unlikely, that we’d own a sports court. First, the bombast to own property that’s big enough for one. Then, the idea that I’d be out there in… Read More ›
Beer, blankets and sunsets
That time of year the days outlast us, the sun comes through the trees and into our family room around 9 PM. Saturday night with Cat Stevens, the girls’ dramatic dance interpretations of Peace Train, the irony that my mom… Read More ›
Weekly Photo Challenge: Signs
Lily gets a call from the neighbor boy Danny, asking can she meet at the construction site? She’s sick, but perks up, flicks her hair, is halfway out the door once I catch up to her and say, “This is… Read More ›
The Crawl Space
We stood in the doorway of the kitchen watching Phyllis eat the mouse. Normally diminutive, she had a wild look now, jowls besmirched and wet. We listened as she chewed, and watched as she gagged-down nearly all of it, leaving… Read More ›
When plants and animals realize they’re unwanted
I stopped caring about my houseplants when Lily was born. It dawned on me, why do we keep carrying these things around? They looked ratty, and left stains on the window sill. One by one I started thinning them out:… Read More ›
The feeling of a house with everything taken out
I can’t help getting rattled by the constant disarray of our house: the kids, the cats, the dog, the yard. Everywhere, something is off. But then I remember the look of our house in West Seattle when we moved out:… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 