Fine Pancakes

The Old Man insisted on calling her Marcy. Marissa wasn't in a position to argue with him. “I’m just reminding you, again sir, that in order to arrive at the signing on time, we need to leave in,” She glanced at the cell phone in her hand, “three minutes.” He just kept on smiling and forked another…

The Sick Story

There is a children's book called The Sick Story, by Linda Hirsch with illustrations by John Wallner. I don't remember if I liked the book. The story is about a pushy only-child whose parents give in to her every whim. I think, even as a kid, I could see how bratty and nasty she was.…

Not Funny

I wake early on a Saturday morning and the house feels wrong. Dad is home and the phone keeps ringing and the neighbors are here and no one is talking when I enter the kitchen. Before I get a chance to explore the cereal cabinet my father takes me by the arm and leads me…

To My Six Year Old Nephew As He Starts First Grade

I know right now it is all the excitement of a new backpack and a new pencil-case and new notebooks and maybe a bit of apprehension about who your new teacher will be, and if your best friend is going to be in your classroom.  You are already, academically speaking, way ahead of your fellow…

Stop staring at me

The reflection is blurry, softer, cleaner.  The lighting is dim, inside that other bathroom, the walls don't need new paint and the cracked tile floor is invisible. Perhaps it isn't cracked at all in there. Perhaps you just float, no need for feet or floors. You are always there, inside the glass, staring out into…

What doesn’t bore me?

I read something, somewhere, about the correlation between Boredom and Depression.  I can't be bothered to go find the article. Too much effort. I bet the article doesn't read the way I remember it.  I bet it will contradict what I know is true. Boredom IS Depression.  The words are synonymous.  There is nothing to…

Creepy Writers

Orson Scott Card gives me the creeps.  But Ender's Game is one of my favorite books.  What to do?!? Back in my immature, naïvely intolerant youth, when an aspect of an author's personal life offended me, I stopped reading that author.  Thankfully I've grown up and can see that the pleasure I get from reading a book is…

Wake Me When It’s Over

Spring for You is not Spring for Me You Revel in the scents of Flowers, while I Sneeze You raise your naked Face to the lengthened Light of the Sun, while I Hide beneath a coating of SPF 100 You point out the Beauty and Rebirth of every new Leaf and Bud, while I wallow in the Pain…

Thoughts on Reversal

I spin to face the other way, to see the greener view. To move, to change, to reinvent myself. I spin and you are there. I slow to see you more clearly, and you grab my hands to hold me still. For your sake, I stop. I stare into your steadfast gaze and adopt your…

This Time

"It's different this time," she says to me, out of nowhere.  We've been talking about movies we've missed over the summer. "What's different," I ask, although I know what she's going to say. "I don't think I'll make it out this time." A dozen glib comments come to mind, but I don't say them, because I think…