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
Tag: heartbreak
How love letters work to those who aren’t here
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
In flux
This year, I lost my ability to read novels the way I use to. I would devour words hungrily without stopping since...well, always. But 2019 wrang me out like a facecloth. It changed the way I move in the world. I moved further away from being able to sit still and give in to a… Continue reading In flux
The Stories we Tell
I don't need to write it here to remember that this semester was hard. But there, now it is written. And as I am nearing the end, I find myself counting the blessings of the days.Two cards today from students who both said thank you.And I may never get another, but this will be enough.The… Continue reading The Stories we Tell
December query
Outside my window, in the tree across the street, a bundle of leaves sways unevenly in the December wind. Bunched together, shriveled and unhappily alone on the otherwise bare branch they are forgotten and victim to the elements. In happier days they were bright green, now they simply are gray-brown and dry. Hearts are not… Continue reading December query
Pushpins
Today I drove by our old house. I do not live there any more. You do though. You and the dog, and the tiny holes left from the push pins I made trying to turn the house to a home. You didn’t notice, it seems, the tiny holes I left or the trying I tried… Continue reading Pushpins
On not being Mary Oliver
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
The ghosts
Today was the first day of my week long workshop at school. Before the halls are filled with students bustling, screaming, singing and running-the building belongs to the seventeen of us. I always feel strange about being in a place that is normally so full to the brim with energy without the hustle and bustle… Continue reading The ghosts
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