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blinded. by the light.


I love the mornings. If the day’s my own, it’s when I feel my happiest. This morning I wanted to watch the sun rise across the lake. Instead, I found a field, out in the middle of nothing, by a road that dead-ended into the water. I got out of my car, and stood, and

water wings


Last night I crawled into the water. Put my face toward the sky. And began to float. I imagined what it would be like to feel that weightless, to feel that lifted up and carried along and free, all the time. Like the wings of eagles. Where you run and don’t grow weary. Where you

country roads


I don’t get nostalgic. I’m not a proud mountaineer. I don’t wear the gold and the blue. I don’t sing “Coal Miner’s Daughter” like I used to. “Oh I’m proud to be a coal miner’s daughter. I remember well, the well where I drew water. Nothing’s left, but the floors, Nothing lives here, anymore. ‘Cept

fishing boats


Last Fall I spent a lot of time in an old fishing boat that had been left on the bank. It became a sort of security blanket, when life became overwhelming. Sometimes I’d just sit in it and let squirrels throw nuts down at me. Other times, I’d push it out onto the lake, and

what dreams are made of


Ma never acted her age. She never sat down. Never stood still. She didn’t take naps like Pa did. Didn’t do “grown up” things, where children weren’t involved. She laughed and smiled at everyone. At 70, she still liked to skip and bounce. To go out for ice cream at 9pm. To throw big elaborate

what i want


I want to see Petra. I want to stand on the road to Damascus. I want to yell into the Grand Canyon and off of the Great Wall of China. I want to sit in that Milanese noodle hall. Stare at a Florentine’s image of a blue-eyed Christ. I want to climb Machu Picchu and

wading through molasses


I started cussing when Ma died. Hard core mouthfuls. Obscenities I never knew I knew. It was the only thing that made me feel better. It was the only thing that made me feel good. And I liked it. That’d be hard for Ma to handle, if she knew. I don’t have to imagine what

o come, emmanuel


I wasn’t prepared for the last week or so. When I’m not prepared for things, I get anxious. When I get anxious, I get scared. But I’m a work in progress, just like everyone else. I battle my own fears and anxieties in my own way. This week, I battled them with The Piano Guys.

roman a clef


You close your eyes and all the world goes dead. You think you made it up inside your head. — Now and then you see people for the first time. For the first time in a hundred times. In a hundred, hundred, times. And you can’t help but stare. They’re like Pollock-style paint drops. Only

she loved to dance


She loved to dance, my Ma. But she’d only do it for her girls. Behind closed doors where she could twist and turn and laugh. When she first lost herself, first forgot everything and everyone but her Dear Bill, all her inhibitions seemed to fall away, and she’d dance just about anywhere. Give her half

be brave, buffy


I have a bracelet that says “Breathe”. Just “Breathe”. I wear it a lot. Because sometimes I forget to do that. To breathe. In my kitchen there’s a plaque made of distressed 2x4s, cut to pieces. The words “be still” are written across it. Be still…and know. This little thing, it’s hard for me. And

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