I Let the Day Go By
I’m a terrible blogger. I’ve never been good with journaling in general. Journaling? New word. ? It was always exciting to open a brand new book of blank pages and think about all the wise and inspirational things I’d jot down in my perfectly formed cursive, things that would be quoted when my diary was found 300 years after I was nice and moldy. I’d begin with all seriousness and devotion and then I’d write something only an eleven year old would, such as, “January 2, 1992 – Today I saw a robbin flitting joyfully through the morning dew,” and realize I misspelled robin because my mom’s name is Robbin and I…
It’s a Big Bad World Outside
Every year for a while when I was a kid… Is probably the worst sentence I’ve written in a long time. How do you say something happened regularly for a limited time during a specific and short period of life? It happened all the time sometimes for a little while. Anyway! My mom would all the time sometimes for a little while go to Ocean City, Maryland with one of her friends. I suppose it was her “girl time,” time to be free of children and step away from being Mommy. My sister and I would ask to go each summer because we were annoying, and it was a part of…
The Forest That Once Was Green
For the past two weeks, afternoon temperatures here have bordered, if not surpassed, 100°F. It’s toasty. Literally. All the beautiful green grass, that not long ago I couldn’t wait to see chopped down, has been reduced to a sad, crunchy brown. There are some people in town that are putting up a valiant fight against the inevitable yard death; sprinklers can be heard whirring as the sun dips below the hills behind our house. Still, large patches of toasted lawn have started to spread like an earthy rash. Inside isn’t much better. We have one tiny air conditioner plunked into a kitchen window. It only has the power to cool…
Do You Want to Live in a Pretty World
I know this isn’t the best picture. Sorry. It’s somewhere close to 145°F outside right now and I didn’t feel much like standing out in the sky oven to take a nice picture. Anyway, this is Phyllis. I don’t know why I named her, or call her “her.” Never mind me, I have a lot of quirks. She’s a poinsettia Brian surprised me with around Christmas last year. What are you supposed to do with a poinsettia after the holidays? If I have something that’s alive, I feel it’s my duty to keep it alive, no matter what. I once purchased a cactus from the hardware store and found a mysterious new…
You Keep Spinning on Your Compass Spoke
For most of my childhood we didn’t have a television. My mom would spend evenings reading poems and stories to my sister and I, as we sat, picking at the splintering wood, on our old front porch. She encouraged summer reading programs and the money she splurged on us was usually spent at Scholastic Book fairs. Later, when I hit my unfortunate rebellious phase and began skipping school, I would go to the library. I don’t think my mom even knows that. She undoubtedly thought I was hanging out with a Bad Crowd, smoking in alleyways, sketching my first tattoo. Nope. Library. Thanks to an early exposure to the beauty of poetry and…
You May Also Like
And Now You Are Wearing the Right Hat
