Happiness. It's relative.
It took months before I could believe it. The man across the street had died. I should have figured it out the first morning Charlie didn’t come walking down his driveway at the stroke of ten, wearing a trench coat and pulling a little suitcase on wheels. Thinking… Continue Reading “The End of Mean Charlie”
Our neighbor died a few weeks ago. My enduring image of him is him loading his very light canoe on top of his car in the early morning hours. Later, after the day had gotten its start, I’d see him unloading his canoe. The… Continue Reading “Lake Superior Neighbors”
After my father died, I found this photo in his bedroom. It was leaning against the mirror of the vanity where my mother had sat painting her nails in a room dark except for the small lamp, her red nails gleaming in the dim… Continue Reading “My Mother’s Face”
The vet’s office sent us a sympathy note. Inside were three white cards, each with a black imprint of one of Punchy’s paws. This seemed odd. Why didn’t they take a print of the fourth paw? And which paw was it that wasn’t included?… Continue Reading “Three Paws”
I read the news of my nephew’s death on Facebook. I knew it was coming but I didn’t in the way that anyone older finds it so hard to believe that a younger person would die first. We think dying will be linear and… Continue Reading “Beautiful Boy”
I woke up in the middle of the night with a complete plan for my own funeral. It’s odd to have that degree of clarity and not consider it so fleeting that I should switch on the light and write it down on some… Continue Reading “My Lovely Funeral”
Stand with 10,000 ghosts Hear their last words Hurrying to the river Running into the trees Shedding this life for new Drop your envy and yearning on the ground Nestle your love in the rocks’ mortar Be part of the wall that stays behind… Continue Reading “Elegy”
Stand with 10,000 ghostsHear their last wordsHurrying to the riverRunning into the treesShedding this life for new Drop your envy and yearning on the groundNestle your love in the rocks’ mortarBe part of the wall that stays behindShelter the lost and the growingReach your… Continue Reading “Elegy”
After my father died, I found this photo in his bedroom. It was leaning against the mirror of the vanity where my mother had sat painting her nails in a room dark except for the small lamp, her red nails gleaming in the dim… Continue Reading “My Mother’s Face”
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