David Kaynor died on the 1st of June and six days later I took Elizabeth's violin from its case and in its place returned a fiddle. Less than 24 hours ago I did the unthinkable and broke my heart, and... Read more →


There is a small stone house on the corner of Columbus and Saratoga, unoccupied so long neither Nina or April can remember when it wasn't just empty, sitting on the corner like that. Whoever owns it now has been trying... Read more →


"Just because she carries it well doesn't mean it isn't heavy (Love and Rage)" - Noelle Mirabella Photography **** This showed up in my facebook feed and I reposted before I processed the contents of her load. I might have... Read more →


Some memories hold on. They dig in deep and maybe we're unaware; but a photograph, a sound, in my case, often a smell, slams the entire vignette into the present. When this happens, I write as much as I remember.... Read more →


Kitty is counting her granddaughter's fingers, can you see? It seems we've stopped counting fingers and toes as a ritual. We assume everything is where it's meant to be; at least for those of us living and breathing in the... Read more →


The night after Christmas, the house flipped over, rolled once or twice, and crashed into the marsh. The tail end of 2008 thumped twice, and expired. The remaining residents of 43 Blue Spruce Circle put themselves on life support and... 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 →


There is no doubt the boy got the short end of the stick every single time. They lived in a little stone cottage on a small farm. The farm had horses and dogs and cats and bunnies. There was a... Read more →


I think this might be the most honest photograph of me, ever. I remember Joe set the camera on a table, messed about for a bit, and then set the timer. This was us in 1984. I was twenty, he... Read more →