a work in progress

My boy. Fourteen today. 1 4. One. Four. Goddamn. He’s a good spirit. Has good intentions. Is not meant to be bound by the rules. I know this. And yet, I expect him to meet expectations that I know are bullshit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. What’s a forty-six year-old, chubby hubby and daddy to do when … More a work in progress

the giving

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

little boys

Fingers through fences pecked and nibbled and bitten by chickens, beagle pups, and bunnies. We were bare-chested, blonde and tan and we ran barefoot and we ran hard turning green grass brown and flattening the yard   until the ground was hard-packed like pavement. Mom and Dad never had nice things, a tidy house, an … More little boys

swinging

Round-faced and tow-headed. Tan from hours of summer sun. A kid on the swings. Back-and-forth. Little hands wrapped tight. Around the chains. Arms and legs pumping. Eyes closed on the backswing. Open on the return. My first taste of freedom. Like flying. Summer days spent on the swings. Singing Elvis Presley songs. For my Dad, … More swinging

magic stuff

December 3, 2018                 We’ve got the cold wrapping up all around us. It’s time for long johns, parkas, and insulated boots. Trekking through snow and slush. Penguin-stepping over ice. Or dodging puddles. It is Michigan, after all. Twenty-seven degrees right now at 7:32 pm but it could … More magic stuff