How impossibly dark it gets here in the afternoons sometimes. I lay in the bath with the pork roast brining and thought about the father-daughter Valentine’s dance at the community center, the one coming up that Charlotte seems so excited… Read More ›
William Pearse writer
A degree off from beige
I don’t know why, but I built a fire out back in the afternoon and stood by it. It got so cold one night a planting pot blew out the side and hung open like a cartoon mouth on a… Read More ›
Now this is good
The dog by my side in the morning in the dark: Orion left his belt outside again, it’s gone down behind the trees: soft sounds, early morning, the jingle of the cat’s bell around her neck, the dog’s got a… Read More ›
‘Why we try’ | on symbols and habits
The way the sun came through the windows made it look like lattice, the shadows of the tree branches on the window sills. I thought about dropping mom at the airport, but really thought about it because I’d thought about… Read More ›
Inauguration day
At the very end of January the light is always the same. Though the sky’s cold and gray, the clouds balled-up fists, the calendar adds a square each day, a few more minutes of sun before it swings on a… Read More ›
The sweet smell of woodsmoke mixed with ocean spray
I pulled into Portland around sunset, crossed the grated bridge through the city limits, two fingers of light left on the horizon. Hard to keep my eyes on the road with the snow-covered volcanoes on my left, the sky turning… Read More ›
‘How little remains’ (on youth, memory, memoir)
I went back to the old apartment. The old apartment was best going back to alone. I tried taking my kids there or Dawn, but to them it was just an old apartment. To me, there was so much more…. Read More ›
One hard week in the south of France
Last year at this time we were ending our stay in the UK, having left Germany for 90 days and now returning: we finished up in Bath and spent a night in Canterbury, then caught the ferry from Dover, drove… Read More ›
Blue in green: Monday, January 23
I got too close to my car, which is never good (emotionally attached), probably starting to identify with it falling apart, the inexplicable warning lights flickering going up steep hills, knowing it was only a matter of time. And I… Read More ›
Whether we feel it or not, the earth moves beneath us
It was the first night this year that didn’t fall so hard. If it had been a theater production and a light cue, they changed the fadeout from 30 seconds to 60. Though unseen, hope stirred underground and you could… Read More ›
Bill Pearse 