The Wrong Side
Sometimes you don’t just get up on the wrong side of the bed, you go to sleep there. The Wrong Side I collapse in bed exhaust..ed— Not from what I did, But from carrying the guilty weight of all I didn’t do. . .
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Sometimes you don’t just get up on the wrong side of the bed, you go to sleep there. The Wrong Side I collapse in bed exhaust..ed— Not from what I did, But from carrying the guilty weight of all I didn’t do. . .
Read moreSomewhere, about mid October, when the rains have licked clean the dust-covered rocks and the maple leaves are the color of condensed sunshine, Mom will bring home the first of several great orange pumpkins and the littlest one will breathlessly insist on carving it the very next day. After, many false starts, “Where are the pumpkin tools?” and “I
Read moreTonight, up our winding dirt road crossed by fog curtains, my oldest son practiced driving. Essentially skilled, he began tremulously and finished like a Nascar racer. Thus, with Apologies to Alfred Lord Tennyson and one of my favorite poems “The Eagle:” Is This Legal? He grasps the wheel with crooked hands, Close to his mom
Read moreI am an athlete. A simple phrase but I use it for comfort and encouragement almost every day. I wasn’t always an athlete. The child chosen last for team sports, I still stood, eyes downcast, when one of the team captains picked the lumbering fat kid. Because I could be counted on to fall or close my
Read moreI am an athlete. A simple phrase but I use it for comfort and encouragement almost every day. I wasn’t always an athlete. The child chosen last for team sports, I still stood, eyes downcast, when one of the team captains picked the lumbering fat kid. Because I could be counted on to fall or close my
Read moreResponses to rain vary but the first drops on a rural home brings two main reactions. What did I forget to cover, close, or bring in and mmm, I love that smell! Every tree seems to drip wet moss and every rock is a rich hue. Cool damp air kisses the grass and your face. Every leaf is
Read moreI have flirted with tattoos. I have imagined the dark lines binding pieces of my fantasy self onto the awkward bulges of my real flesh. I have envisioned becoming more myself by submitting to the sharp tongue of a silver needle but I have a father who wears an impossibly perfect woman’s torso as a veil over the name
Read moreGuest Blog by Kevin (first written 5 years ago) My wife woke me up in the wee hours (as has happened at the start of several other stories.) Being the “man of the house” has certain duties attached to the title. One of which is to investigate all thumps, bumps, bangs, whatever the dog is growling or barking at, and
Read moreMalachi always takes a bath in the evening. A year ago November, he was tired of playing before I came to get him and he slipped back into the house. I quickly popped him in his pj’s and went out to turn off both the bathroom light and the noisy generator. I opened the garage door–then slammed it
Read moreTry to see things from his perspective. Picture splashing in your bubble bath. Maybe you should hum something childish to help you capture the contented mood. Enjoy the sudsy goodness for a moment in your mind. Dip the yellow rubber duckie into the white foam and giggle at the beard that drips off it’s bill. But, don’t close
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