Once you start taking a hard look at yourself, measuring your decisions, weighing consequences, it’s easy to not drink. It’s easy to turn the other cheek. It’s easy to believe in others, and most of all, it’s easy to believe in you. And once you get on that path of believing in yourself, you pick up steam day by day, and become, in a way, unstoppable. … More one year later — looking up
Bird, apple, orange. I’m happy to be torn. Into so many pieces. They see me. Different directions. The refraction. Light on my edges. The kids’ drip, drip, dripping faucet. The bathroom sink. My little boy is 15. He has a razor and shaves. My little girl is 11. She wears eye shadow sometimes. They are … More bird, apple, orange
You know how you wake up with a song in your head and it sticks there while? What if you put on the headphones and played that song? And what if you did it every time you woke with a song in your brain? Would it change the course of your day? I think the … More distillation
(Recently, I asked my students to experiment with freewriting…just letting words roll out from wherever they come. So, I thought I would do the same.) I don’t feel like being metaphorical or creative or moving this morning. I want to get on with the day, but it’s already here. Somehow, I get into it without … More freewriting blasphemy
Early Sunday morning. A car stops on State Street because a flock of geese crosses the road. They are doing what they’ve been doing for millions of years. Moving from Point A to Point B. They’ve experienced disease, drought, famine, and legitimate predators—not the weekend gun-jockeys that pop them off in parks during three-day hunts … More crossing the road
Chickadees, Blue Jays, and Robins are at it. Singing and fighting. Because it is Spring. Earthworms slide across wet sidewalks. Black and gray squirrels leap from powerlines to branches and dance across streets. Most of them make it, but some don’t. We pass these little bodies each day without a second thought. My kids … More making bacon during COVID-19
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
I’ve made it home, and I’m coming to. In my bed. Fully clothed. On top of the covers. Someone’s coming up the stairs. Slowly. Deliberately trying to be quiet. But the old staircase is creaking and popping, giving them away, mapping their ascent to my room. I try sitting up, but I’m hung-over and still … More in the moonlight
Raising kids is not fun. Sure, there are fun moments. There are times when you are amazed. In awe. In love. When it’s like this, it’s the purest form of love that there is. But it’s not like that often. This is probably my fault. I have high expectations. At 14 years old, even at … More raising kids…it ain’t easy
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
The Crooked Steeple 