The month is wrapping up. Not that it matters much. Dates in boxes. Pages with pictures. Calendars quantifying our existence. Making other days more important than others. Conditioning us for deadlines and expectations, so that we conform. Time is a construct. I am not 47. I am one and I am one-hundred. I’m yesterday and … More the paradigm
Bubbles in puddles mean rain for three days. It’s day two. The transplanted bushes and sod are greening. Roots are taking hold. I never cared much for landscaping. And still don’t. But lately, I’ve found there’s a calming effect being so close to the ground, putting fingers into the earth. But there was no yard … More a family walk
There are mornings I wake more rested than ever. Oddly enough, those are the days that typically lead me right down the shitter. I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s because I am not used to waking fully repaired. That’s what sleep is supposed to do, right? Rest us. Repair us. Prepare us. So we can … More shove it down
Grinding coffee on the porch as the dog does her business. I don’t want to stir my wife or kids. They need sleep. The wood underfoot is so cold my feet burn. But it feels good to be outside on another Alpena April morning. And now, inside, I sip warm liquid and get to work, … More Alpena April Morning
We were five weeks into it. My trips on weekends to visit. S.B. was living on Stieber Street. Doing her best. Trying to teach art to kids that didn’t get regular meals, words of encouragement, or hugs. She was raising a two-year-old. By herself. In a neighborhood that was just a step above questionable. The … More to S.B. on her birthday
In the kitchen. Taxes on my mind. Knowing I need to get them done because if done right, we’ll get money back. We need this money to live this life we’re living. I understand that the sum of your belongings means nothing. But once you accumulate and have, you expect. It’s ridiculousness at its best. … More the pit
My kids go round the block. My daughter to her friend’s place. Within sight. Within earshot. But sometimes she goes left instead of right. A shortcut that eliminates 67 steps. My boy rides his bicycle to Bay View to play basketball. He runs too. From our street, up 1st, to Ripley, to 2nd and back … More the giving
I lifted the cat and hugged her. Even though she’s shit on our bedroom floor and I stepped in it twice. Barefoot. Once, as I clomped my way to the john in the dark. Bladder so full of vodka, Sprite, and water that I thought I’d never go back to bed. The other, a weird … More the never end
monarchs © 2012 Brooke Stevens My kids love without conditions. They care about people and animals. Water, dirt and sand, rocks and trees. They care about many things. They have not yet been spoiled by their surroundings. They want to help others. Pick up trash. Recycle. Give. Not only to those less fortunate but to everyone. … More running out of time
I don’t want to let things roll off my back. I want to react. To feel, to fight, to see, and believe. I don’t want to be in the background waiting my turn. I don’t want to stand by and listen as the ignorant and selfish try to pull us down and backward. I want … More something unsavory
