Sightseers into Pilgrims, by Evangeline Paterson
I used to think --
loving life so greatly --
that to die would be
like leaving a party
before the end.
Now I know that the party
is really happening
somewhere else;
that the light and the music --
escaping in snatches
to make the pulse beat
and the tempo quicken --
come from a long way
away.
And I know too
that when I get there
the music will never
end.creative writing
Buckled Love
Cereal and blueberries. That’s what I should have for breakfast this morning. But as I stare at the quart of blueberries sitting in my refrigerator’s fruit drawer, I change my mind.
Two months ago my mom died. Yet, it seems like she’s still alive, and like she left years ago. In fact, I wasn’t able to mourn her for the six years she suffered from dementia, but since she’s died, I’ve celebrated her vitality and misdeeds and shenanigans and mostly, her love for her family, in big and small ways. Continue reading
Fifty Shades of Pink
Paula stepped away, holding back a scream when the neighbor who had just moved into the apartment above her entered the shared laundry room, saying softly: “Is there a problem?” (In the Laundry Room, continuing from last week…)
“Oh. Um. Hello! It’s Stefan, isn’t it? Hi. I’m Paula.” Paula nodded her head as if in a business meeting, berating herself silently. He’s creepy!
Stefan ignored her as he glared at the laundry in her hands. “I believe those are my jeans. And Darlene’s nightgown.” Continue reading
In the Laundry Room
Paula grumbled as she trudged down the apartment stairs to the building’s laundry room. As much as she loved her two-bedroom apartment with full on views of the San Francisco Bay from every room, she didn’t appreciate the shared laundry space. Continue reading
Fear of Hippo- WHAT?
I used to have a fear of Hippopotomonstrosesquippedaliophobia . You know, fear of long words.
I blame it on my reading.
I figured out how to understand the squiggly lines on a page when I was 4. In the past, children weren’t encouraged to read in Kindergarten. The best thing for young brains was play, back in the day. Continue reading
roughwighting 