My old friend.
My memory says we first met on a warm summer day when I was about four years old. We were … Continue reading My old friend.
My memory says we first met on a warm summer day when I was about four years old. We were … Continue reading My old friend.
It’s early Sunday morning. The sun is bright. The wind is brisk. It’s a sweater day — even if you’re … Continue reading we choose.
Very early in our marriage, Donna learned something important — I’m not a plumber. It could have been the first … Continue reading the airplane… in my basement.
For months, I’ve been preoccupied with an odd, sad emotion. It seems everywhere I turn, people judge others. Winners or … Continue reading Living a life, between…
This morning I walked to my office. I wish I remembered a jacket. The wind and rain chilled me to … Continue reading 24 hours in late November.
Walking to the train, I found myself replaying an exchange from yesterday. Not just once, but on a continuous loop. I kept … Continue reading the rewards of being less-than-perfect…
Yesterday afternoon I mowed the lawn. It was a cool fall day, colorful leaves decorating the ground, crispness in the air. … Continue reading the intersection of I-10 and I-25.
I sit typing, sipping java, concentrating. Mylo enters, pounces against my chair and barks, “it’s time to play!” “No”, I say… … Continue reading be perfectly impatient.
When Brennan was 8-years old we heard him giggling in the back seat of our car riding to a soccer … Continue reading counting drips…