A face to shatter a mother's heart and most days fold her soul in half. I don't know what the world sees, but it can't possibly miss the vulnerability. That one moment in a series of photographs, the sort of... Read more →


The original timestamp on The Red Umbrella (and the light) is August 13, 2020 which has caused a dip into the well of cognitive dissonance this morning. The post was written forty-eight hours after I'd put my affairs in order... Read more →


They came from Sugarland in Texas; hadn't been there very long, and before that Ohio and before that Connecticut. In Sugarland, he pronounced himself done. He was sixty, or almost, and he was done. My dad, he tells a pretty... Read more →


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 →


There are not many photographs of Elizabeth and me after she was eight. There wasn't anyone to take them for the most part and I'm not big on selfies. However, there is this and it tells all you need to... 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 →