Today you would have been 85. And somehow though the years are moving forward without you, you still are here. Your name is mentioned at least once a day. A story remembered. A song turned up a little louder.I see her in the profile of my mother, I hear her in the voice of my… Continue reading I love you more.
She took me next door. There was a hose on the roof, and an unlocked door and the leftover wallpaper peeling. The grass was unkempt and the gate didn’t lock properly. Beyond, lay the Allegheny, moving fast towards the right of our eyeline-the docks pressed in towards one another in the same way you line… Continue reading Abandoned
Ron, I read this out loud to my students on Tuesday. You would have hated me doing that. I told them who you were, why you are so important to me, where we met and how. I said you were kind. And funny, and irritating. I said you loved Paris, and a great hot cocoa, and to laugh.I told them… Continue reading How love letters work to those who aren’t here
I think of her way with wordsthe slow, steady shuffle of her gaitAnd feel here coming towards me the way a loved one would meet you half way down the path.I imagine she wears a well washed shirt, loose pantsand a pair of sandals."Mary" I ask "Does this get any easier?"She does not speak but… Continue reading On not being Mary Oliver
Mom and I walked out before dinner. Dad was finishing a meeting in the car. The bookstore we wandered through before heading out to the windy vastness was quiet; smelling like fire and full of summer reads, Christmas gifts, handmade cards ready to be written and sent.Outside there was a jasmine bush that smelled so… Continue reading The noticing
There is nothing quite different about the lobby. I think at one point there were tables that Drew and I would sit at and split a Dr. Pepper and chicken soup with tons of crackers while we ran lines. But otherwise, 10 years later, it is the same. Oh, the students have changed of course.… Continue reading I got here early…
It’s chilly October, the leaves are in the gutters. No one can say they didn’t warn you. It comes every year, (you should know this by now)-the falling of it all. Don’t you think often of the time before? When falling leaves and broken banisters and chipping paint were someone else’s problem.All you had to worry about was how… Continue reading Zippy Autumn
Home says 'Hi', Mackenzie. The sun winks past the window looking for you inside our room. The breeze tickles the wind chimes in the crepe myrtle to call you out to play. The grass stays short longing for you to lay on your towel with a magazine and your journal. Even the treadmill misses you.… Continue reading An ode to sisters