The Only Thing That Matters
byThe phone rang in our motel room around 9 a.m., startling us all. In 1987, motel room phones only rang if it was a…
The Cheerleaders on the Side of the Road
byAfter my oldest son was born, I found it nearly impossible to leave the house. We lived in the city without on-site parking so…
Onward
byJanuary has been a long slog of a month. If there is one word that comes to mind when I think of the past…
Fumbling Around Together
byA few years ago, I wrote an essay about smashing windows. Not actual windows. But the figurative windows that distort the ways that I…
In Defense of Wandering
by“What am I doing?” I stand in the middle of the kitchen and ask this question aloud, even though there is no one…