Stitching Sentences

Instead of staring into a cold glow of pixelated light this morning, I kept the computer shuttered away in its desk and sat by the window, where blackness transitioned to grey, and grey blushed warm and pink as dawn approached.  I turned on a lamp, pulled Natalie Goldberg’s Writing Down the Bones from the shelf, … Continue reading Stitching Sentences

I remember

I remember how pretty the marsh looks in summer, when a storm is coming, and the grass looks neon green against a blackening sky. I remember the Fourth of July in Savannah that year with Brian.  We rode in his Jeep with the top down, drove down to River Street to watch the fireworks.  But … Continue reading I remember