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

Too much to see

I sat at the kitchen table with my journal, and when I looked up, I saw hand prints on the glass door, horizontal lines of blinds, square pattern of tiles, vertical lines of the fence.  There were shoes strewn about on the porch, trikes parked haphazardly, toys littered everywhere.  If I turned my eyes back … Continue reading Too much to see

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

A Morning in Sounds

7:45 am – I hear the tink of small plastic parts, of tiny Pony shoe box lids capping tiny Pony shoe boxes.  I hear the kids’ sweet voices as they play, turning less sweet as our daughter’s voice escalates to an ugly “That’s Mine!” that makes me cringe.  I hear the occasional car passing outside … Continue reading A Morning in Sounds