His head hung low over the bar, bobbing like a turtle’s from its protective shell. He’d had too many shots of Wild Turkey, too little sleep. Through squinting eyes, he watched the barmaid. Tall, broad, and middle aged hard. But… Continue Reading
I brought my father’s picture with me so I’d recognize him. The photo showed him with both arms draped around my mom’s shoulders as if he were protecting her from some unseen foe. I guess that’s what my high school… Continue Reading
I was born and raised in the forest, among my kind. We lived off the land, the nearby waterways, unmolested and unencumbered, free to enjoy the sun, the stars, and especially the occasional breeze. Now my ankle hurts. I only… Continue Reading
Christmas, 2010. My father took one last breath, gaze stretching into infinity. Stage four lung cancer, metastasized to the brain. Lesions shot through the flesh of his memories. Even to the end, holes in his mind didn’t stop his apologies… Continue Reading
Through the hazy watercolor of a child’s memory, those months stand out with clarity even into my ninth decade. They start with the bombs dropping in the village streets. Even a child couldn’t mistake the bone-shaking howl, the blinding flashes… Continue Reading
Pull ropes from red and white, twist, stick on wax paper-covered pans. Inhale air that’s hot, sickly sweet, and still smells a bit like horse. “They’re going to love your candy canes this year,” says Mom with her pin-up girl… Continue Reading
Mom was way into Santa. But I always found the red suit, flushed pigmentation, and overall jolliness a bit creepy. Not to mention the standing invitation for strangers to sit on his lap. When I argued that he couldn’t possibly… Continue Reading
The line is an unruly squiggle. I watch them wait for portraits with the mall Santa — their faces dulled by 2 a.m fevers and preschool reports, these husbands and wives who loved a boy or a girl before the… Continue Reading
My father has told me my mother’s name. He’s told me she had long black hair, like me, and that she died in an accident. Her car skidded across an ice patch and bit into a telephone pole. He’s even… Continue Reading
There’s a dog in the street. A cocker spaniel, I think. His head is flat and a tire track runs down the middle of his back. When Marilyn and I were first married, we rescued a cocker spaniel from the… Continue Reading