My friend and I walk until our tender feet tell us to turn around, after stretches and stretches of water-textured and glittering sand.  The shore begins to rub away our blunt edges, until we become warm and worn and honest.  My friend lifts her finger, silently stirring the air so as not to stop the […]

Sometimes, there aren’t words.  Instead, there are smells–rotten and sour and wrecked. “Mom Jones?  Oh, where is she?” I hear Riley before I see her, hear her thinking out loud down the hallway, peering into rooms, twisting that rope of sun-gold hair absently into an uneven bun.  Her hair captures so much light I expect […]

Early morning and the way feels long, as though I’ve meandered for miles without a full inhale, and my finger pauses over this verse: “When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter (Exodus 13:17).”  I imagine the way those freed women felt, wrapping […]

Knife taps against cutting board and the onion cries.  The delicate scarlet rings fall, hiding the slicing scars, all those crisscrossed lines like a haphazard tally of breaths.  If only the flavors–peppery and sun-soaked and honey-sweet–lasted as long as the evidence of our cooking.  A sigh slips as I turn my burning eyes away from the […]

We–I mean all of us–used to send more mail; we had baskets of pre-selected cards and special pens, pretty stamps and seals.  We even went to parties to learn how to emboss and bought accessories to make art deliverable by post.  Despite our busy lives, Stampin Up is still a thing.  I checked. Automatically, those […]

Anger and hurt, dancing like the steam curling mad over my coffee cup, propel me under until criticism rolls off my tongue.  The words have a metallic tang, as though I’ve bitten my lip.  I draw my knees up into the chair, wrapping my fingers around my bare feet, feeling the bones.  Zoe and I […]

It takes a hammer and a knife-sharp nail–a good, shuddering whack to the thick, fat beam, but it’s done.  I step back, admiring.  The sign, a small, artfully worn thing as black as night, says gather here.  I hang it on the porch, where it’s sweet, simple command rounds out a semi-circle of rocking chairs–one summer-sky […]

When we round the corner, she gets up from where she sits, pushing open the door.  I can see the cold, straight legs of a card table through a narrow opening; I can tell she has hair the color of straw, that she wears a rose-colored shirt.  Even before she stands in the doorway holding […]

Mid-morning and they wander out to me, rested and fresh from sleep, blanket lines on their high-boned cheeks.  Riley’s brassy hair swings out from her shoulders, lifted by the breeze, as she settles into the chair across from me, carrying her breakfast.  “Happy birthday, Mom Jones,” she says, while Zoe gently drops a present on […]

Kevin walks in the door and the afternoon rushes right in with him.  It’s as though the jostling traffic, the dying sun, and dozens of fading fragments of conversation cling to his shirt sleeves, his warm cheeks. They fall off his shoulders, these things, as the strap from his leather bag falls to the floor […]