Before I knew what I was doing, I turned right, into the driveway. Just barely in the gravel drive I halted, surprised by my destination. Several yards up, I had meant to turn left and pick my …
Tag: Grief
The Stars are Like Dust
The stars are like dust Scattered behind clouds In a raging wind A violent storm Like the brittle branch I have broken at the thin point But still I cling Still I hang I have a bell …
On Grief
I was on the way out the door when my dad called to tell me that my mom had died. It was a warm spring day, and dust motes danced in the sunbeam in front of me …
Shoot, Drink, Older Woman, Preferably in That Order: in praise of Hemingway.
There is something beautifully masculine about Ernest Hemingway’s writing. It is, at times, ephemeral, deep, yet containing a polished surface that does not display those dark ripples until closer inspection. Every time I read Hemingway, I am …
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Sea of Bitterness (Excerpt)
The sharp edge of the stiletto heel thrust upward, toward the pale sky. The shoe was overturned, and crusted with dried mud, faded and gray, like a dead riverbed. Crimson material could be glimpsed through the grime, …
Late nights with whiskey and The Bell Jar
The next thing I knew, it was 4 a.m., and I was turning the last page of The Bell Jar while sipping my third tumbler of whiskey.
Let’s Just Shoot the SOB
My father was an excellent cop. He had a gentleness and grace that lent itself well to law enforcement. I know those are not typical descriptions of a cop and certainly not traits you will find in …
A Simple Promise
I went out amidst the pines today. Their towering columns brought you to mind. The sun danced, and the wind whispered, and I was lost among those old friends. It was there that I remembered my promise …
Broken Promises
In this photo you are radiant. Sun and warm sand prickles under our knees, tickle-burning as you chase me. The tip of my tongue is pinched between pearly teeth, pink and pert, the intensity of my focus. …
