• Dying

    These are the words of my best friend who has acute leukemia for the third time.  He gave me permission to translate his words to English and to share them here. 

  • Dog Days

    I walk out past the barn, past the sheds, and through the gap in the fence that is old, twisted barbed wire to my left, and old wood plank to my right. Grasshoppers leap up and out of the path of my feet, an unending cascade of dust-brown bodies parting like waves before me. Out of the cascade every so often, one takes flight, bursting from a tight bullet body to a frenzy of black, yellow-tipped wings.

  • My Writing Journal

    My journal.  Yes, it does exist, much as I some days wish it didn’t… mocking me with its presence, the guilt building the longer I put off writing.  But I do write in it, eventually.  Granted, the writing is often scraps, bits and pieces which may or may not ever actually end up on a story…

  • Untitled – Snippet – August 9, 2012

    I  studied his face.  His eyes were bright in the guttering candlelight.  His pupils were wide, pushing out all color to their coal blackness.  His skin was faintly darkened by sun and wind-roughened along high cheekbones.  Although his face was lean and worn by years, it maintained an impish hint of youth. 

  • Quote of the Day – August 8, 2012

    The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing… not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares. ~ Henri Nouwen

  • Child Wisdom

    As my former partner and I were, today, trying to stumble our way through one of our first conversations since a painful and at times ugly parting of our romantic connection, his son was pouting over being denied (justifiably!) a particular sugary treat.  Eventually the four-year-old crawled onto the bed beside his father and told him, “I’m mad at you, but I still love you.”