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
Handprints on windows. Fingerprints on the fridge. A pair of wet socks in the sink. Cereal bowl and spoon sitting on the couch. The smart TV shows THE AMAZING WORLD OF GUMBALL to the dog. She’s curled up in a big pink blanket, surrounded by a dozen stuffed animals, and has a purple bow on … More summer vacation
I heard a voice tonight. The kids were in pajamas. We had just said our family prayer and were playing tic, tac, toe, hit me high, hit me low, hit me three times in a row, buddy got hit by a UFO and what I heard was ROCK and so I played rock and … More our son’s last race of the school year
(click below for audio) A star streaks through the forgotten sky. Brings excitement. For an instant. Then is gone. I watch street lamps, porch lights, more stars, and I linger outside in the dark maybe a little too long. My son will be standing outside one night in July, drunk from big glasses of wine, … More a star streaks
What do we know about UFOs, black holes, and how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop? ** My son wears the same underwear for days. He can’t shut off a light. Has to be reminded to brush his teeth. And he whines more than I ever … More UFOs, black holes, and how many licks it takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Roll Tootsie Pop
As I write this, my daughter appears. She’s made me a drawing.
To dad fum Oogie, it says.
There is a sun at the bottom of the page and a sun at the top. There is a flower growing out of the sky and a flower growing out of the ground. In the middle of the page is a giant, smiling frog. … More a girl draws a picture
When I was a kid, just seven or eight, and it was bitter cold like this—the wind killing our cheeks, icing our eyes, and easing through even the most solid surfaces of our double wide—I woke every morning to the sound of Dad crumpling and rolling newspapers to light a fire two hours before the … More actions speak louder than words