Lily makes a gun shape out of her hand and puts it to her mouth, pulls the trigger. This, on a Sunday in response to me reminding her that she needs to get ready for confirmation class, if she wants… Read More ›
parenting
The red thread
All the store fronts had their hours posted but it didn’t matter because I couldn’t for the life of me remember what day it was. The names shrank away when I focused on the letters and returned no results. And… Read More ›
Song for late autumn Saturdays
A voice is wailing from the radio, an opera, in a language I don’t understand. The gray today is like a palm pressing down on my head or worse, a pillow. One kid is in the shower with the radio… Read More ›
Sunday night with the tree
And I wondered what it thought of all this ornamentation and this fuss: this cruel ending.
The origin of the word ‘souvenir’
I removed all evidence of Halloween except for the jolly jack o’ lantern with the little electric light. It had no amount of malice, like a kid’s happy face before they’ve learned how to sneer. I left the large plastic… Read More ›
Your Mom’s Ashes
Lily and her friends have formed a band called Your Mom’s Ashes, but spell it in a way that bastardizes the your and ignores the possessive for the mom’s. The four of them circle our property looking creatively blocked, needing… Read More ›
The last day of the fair
Going to the fair was less about going to the fair and more about reliving past times we wanted to hold onto. I’d never noticed it before, but all the rides were basically the same. In the same positions even…. Read More ›
The phone can’t see what’s really real
The month wore on. Though it was cool at night I left the windows open to hear the rain slap the patio. The light was different now, and struggled to make it over the trees. The grass had gone to… Read More ›
The wind through our windows, Anchorage
We tottered down the runway, wriggling inside the plane. Pale lead morning, 18 years since I’d flown to Alaska. That weekend before 9/11, the end of the tourist season, closing down the shops. Our kids now taking pictures outside the… Read More ›
How the house felt after the kids left for summer camp
Outside it was warm and the lupine stalks were bending down, some on their faces like mollusks gumming the ground but not making it very far, frozen mid-suck. The dog smelled bad, a telltale bad like she’d rubbed herself in… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 