A boy of seven, equal parts confidence and unsureness, walking behind his siblings and his parents, headed towards a cemetery. And the world is alive with green and his brother and sister alive with rancor, but his parents seem to be some other place, some place much grayer, like a hospital room, with their quiet … Continue reading "first funeral"
I wander freely in and out of dreams Along a path where long ago we walked; By tires on long ropes, swung over streams, Where crickets chirped and frogs croaked as we talked – And as young lovers do, we also did. I loved the shy excitement of your eyes; Your quick’ning breath, as on … Continue reading "I Wander Freely"
Time, they say, heals wounds. I haven’t found that to be so — For through lost fields of yesterday My heart will ever go Love, I hear, takes time. Well, time’s the one thing that I lack – Yet to lost fields of yesterday My heart keeps going back I let it all just wander … Continue reading "Lost Fields of Yesterday"
A church Sunday School trip comprised of 4th graders on a Sunday afternoon, with 20 or so of us in a couple of our teachers’ vans. It was near the end of the school year, in late April. I know it was roughly half boys and half girls, but the boys were in one van … Continue reading "A Trip to the Garbage Dump"
Eight years old, looking around a brand new restaurant. All around the high walls are watercolor paintings. Sailboats in summer. Horses running in winter. Nobody has to teach us to love drawings and paintings, we just do. Showing what we see, using only our hands, is kind of an amazing thing. Loving color, loving the … Continue reading "Strange Markers (4)"
Humans play thoughtlessly upon the edge of great waters, even the one called “death”. Twenty-three years old, though, and while everything was done thoughtlessly, those waters had, frankly, come to look pretty inviting. January morning, bitter cold, a storm due in. Walking, walking, mile after mile. Another year ahead, another seemingly pointless year. Thinking, at … Continue reading "Strange Markers (3)"
At age thirteen, not much makes sense, so the young heart clings to traditions, where meaning is felt, and does not therefore need to be explained. Often, all the adults see is the confusion, which manifests itself in discontent and anger, and not the clinging, or the searching, or the questions, most of which are … Continue reading "Strange Markers (2)"
Grew up in Florida, rarely even seen snow. Twenty-two years old, fresh out of college, working in Florida, sent for a two week class in Ohio. In December. Started snowing the day after arrival. Walking around on the weekend, cutting across fields through snow, headed towards town. Ice on the roads, ice in eyebrows and … Continue reading "Strange Markers (1)"
revisiting where i grew up, i walk along a starry beach: the gulf is gentle, welcoming, the moon seems within reach -- but childhood is not, i fear. so often, we remember the way things felt, not how they were. and so, this is blue december i will recall the world that was, and note, … Continue reading "so often…"