The narrative recounts a trip from Stratford to London, reflecting on themes of unemployment, nostalgia, and family experiences.
travel
Through the gap in Shakespeare’s garden
It’s getting hard to make out the numbers by my bed, the clock. In the middle of the night they are a soft blue fuzz, military time, harkening back to Europe. On New Year’s we drove down from Chester to… Read More ›
Long division
When I woke I really didn’t know where I was. Still divided between two places, two time zones, two bedrooms. But there was the clock on the side of my bed anchoring me to this place: home-home. And after being… Read More ›
Bookending
This is a series of posts written from my mom’s house in Germany that begins here, and ends with this post. I came and went on a Thursday. Took the old walk my last day, the one mom calls her… Read More ›
Leaving the country
At Eberhard’s we sit outside his mom’s place on a rickety bench with our backs against a stone hut, by the walnut tree. He uses a tree stump for a small table with a crude table top balanced on top… Read More ›
Last Sunday in Germany
On Sunday we’d go to Eberhard’s house in the country. It’s actually his mom’s house, and he’s been living there for years since she had a stroke and can’t live by herself. He’s also got a house across the road… Read More ›
The pearly everlasting
We meet mom’s friend Helga for dinner at the Croatian guy Tony’s new restaurant and sit inside at the best table (“without shadows,” Tony says). It’s called Adriatic cuisine, which I take to mean Mediterranean, though my geography and culinary… Read More ›
One and the same
This is a series of posts written from my mom’s house in Germany. I came and went by way of the side door leading to mom’s Hof, an outdoor patio of sorts. The side door has an old medieval-style metal… Read More ›
From the morning
Mom and I drove to a nearby village to a men’s clothing store looking for traditional-style German sweaters, the kind they wear with lederhosen. Instead I found a pair of knickers that tie below the knees, a style you don’t… Read More ›
Touching from a distance
Every day we went for an ice cream at the Italian place, then to Berne’s for a coffee. We ordered the same thing each time: the stracciatella Eis, then two Kaffe normales, a large water with gas. Then we’d sit… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 