Tag: Yeah Write

My Goal

Posted on April 1, 2015 by

7 Comments

I strive to be ninety-six, to do the math in my head, adding my time as a child to my time as a mother, subtracting fruitless days and multiplying joyous ones, forgetting nothing, regretting less, holding my beautiful luck in my hands.

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Home Alone

Posted on March 3, 2015 by

6 Comments

He didn’t know what to make of it. Hearing the hammering outside, knowing now that the last window was boarded up. It had been the secret little doorway to his new home. And now he was stuck. There would be no getting out without… Continue Reading “Home Alone”

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No Strolls Tonight

Posted on February 25, 2015 by

11 Comments

That it was dark didn’t worry him much, more that the board-up man might have nailed the last window shut, the one he’d been using as the door to his little place, home would be airtight now, no more coming or going.

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A Blessing on This Day

Posted on February 11, 2015 by

2 Comments

Talked today with a woman just retired from the shelter she founded years ago, she beamed describing bringing homeless people inside, hardest to serve, rough, drunk, rule-breakers, her people, ‘there but for fortune’ she told me, no distance between us and them.

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Not Yet

Posted on February 4, 2015 by

6 Comments

The road to the shadows is paved and runs downhill. It would be easy to go there, join the others resting by the fire, harder to turn around and head up more steep hill to become tired and hot from the sun.

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6:18

Posted on January 28, 2015 by

6 Comments

“Don’t drop me at the corner. Go up two blocks and turn right. I wanna show you something,” he said, picking up the Chicken Nuggets box and the plastic barbecue sauce packets, sucking the last life out of his giant soda and cramming it all into… Continue Reading “6:18”

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Lines of Communication

Posted on January 28, 2015 by

9 Comments

It belongs to his uncle. He said we could stay here. It’s only temporary. It’s warm in the kitchen with the stove on. The baby’s fine. She’s with us. We won’t let those people on the porch come in. Don’t worry, Mom.

Category: Marriage, Family, Dogs, and CatTags: , ,

The Drive-By

Posted on January 27, 2015 by

14 Comments

They drove past twice, each time, slowing the car and looking up at my window. I stepped back so they wouldn’t see me looking back. How queer is it that I would see them at the exact moment they stopped in front of my… Continue Reading “The Drive-By”

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6:11

Posted on January 20, 2015 by

15 Comments

The car still smelled like french fries from the last time. She cracked the window and looked at her phone shining like a camping flashlight on her lap. She scrolled through Facebook and her email, looking up every few seconds to check the mirrors,… Continue Reading “6:11”

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Bringing the Box

Posted on December 22, 2014 by

11 Comments

“I don’t want to go all the way to Chicago with your dad in a box on my lap.” “Where am I supposed to put him? If I put him in the trunk, the box could tip over. Just hold him, it’s not that… Continue Reading “Bringing the Box”

Category: Marriage, Family, Dogs, and CatTags: , , , , ,

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Jan Wilberg

Jan Wilberg

What happens here on Red's Wrap is all over the map. There is no single theme, no overarching gripe, no malady of my own or others that dominates. I write about what seems important or interesting at the moment and what aims me toward hope. I write stories, essays, poems - whatever fits the day and the mood. Nothing stays the same, here or anywhere. That's a good thing. Happiness. It's relative.

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"The Power of Saying You're Sorry," Lives, Newsweek, 9-5-08
“Fury Cannot Touch Me,” Modern Love, NYT, 9/29/11

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