Yelena stared at the wall and nurtured her rage. Om Shanti, Om Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Shanti, Om... fifteen minutes every day. She refused to cut her hair, but clipped her nails to the quick. She was ordered to the shower... Read more →


I think all married people do this; at least that's what I tell myself. No matter how hard we try, we lose bits of ourselves over time. Commitment is a horribly abused word. As with the word, literally, it rarely... Read more →


I drove north to Starksboro on September 9 with no end date in sight. That's not me; I want concrete plans, or at least concrete foundations. I can improvise on that. The only concrete things I had were the drive... Read more →


So I can get a Chappaqua station pass? AILISH ELIZABETH MCCARTHY! Right. So you'll pick me up? In what world? The late train? Maybe. **** I'm going to Hunter in the fall. They let me in. Any particular reason they... Read more →


Well before I married Elizabeth's father we talked about children. In those early conversations we didn't talk about financial weight so much as the emotional and support commitments; those nebulous things that go well past shelter, clothing, and food. To... Read more →


Me and Elizabeth on the school bus rock. Just a metaphor, really, because we're still on that rock. Rocks change and people change but you can decide to stay on the rock together. **** My contract with GE came to... Read more →


She came so far, so fast, and neither of us saw it. She saw the things that weren't good enough and I saw the way she caved in on herself every single time she missed the mark. I held my... Read more →


Writer's prompts are magical. There is a section in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance in which the protagonist is remembering a moment with a college student struggling to write well. I won't get into the philosophical discussion of... Read more →