Even when there's no interest on either side one's coordination completely disappears in the presence of beauty (Abigail's daughter, Jen)
But we don't get to choose what sticks. How many times I have run my fingers along a picket fence and thought, This! I will remember this moment always! and all that remains is the memory of a desire...
But we're all looking for the place we belong. And what is home, anyway, but what we cobble together out of our changing selves? Maybe there isn't any it, as my friend said, only the longing
But when it gets dark, I’m off the hook. The day is officially rolled up and put away. I’m free to watch movies or stare at the wall, no longer holding myself accountable for what I might or might not...
…our bodies often give us electric shocks, sometimes to the tune of dozens a day. It’s not dangerous. We are electric after all, which is hard to remember because inside we are so wet. I breathe in an...
Death is both a certainty and an unknown, Chuck says. It's hard to get a grip on it.
The last several years my life had begun to feel shapeless, like underwear with the elastic gone, the days down around my ankles.
Don't worry, I say, putting a PG Tips tea bag in her mug. It's been happening for years. It's not getting worse. Besides, I'm not hearing voice, I'm overhearing them. I just don't know what they are s...
I have been trying to remember being young, which is hard because I don’t feel old until I try to get up from my chair. Or when I look at the photograph Jennifer took of me sitting on a stool next to...
This would account for those moments of Oh! there you are! After all, there are those people we like and dislike, there are those people we love, and then there are those we recognize. These are the u...
What can come? my grandson Sam asked, when he was very young, after his mother had warned him not to go into the woods after dark. What can come? This was a brilliant question. Can is scarier than wil...
And you have to take gladly what life offers, she has learned that much, and sometimes you get lucky. There’s nothing wrong with that, is there? There’s nothing wrong with that.
Grief is not a pleasure, but it makes me remember, and I am grateful.
Happy, for instance, once meant luck. Not good luck or bad, just luck. Look what we have done to ourselves. We think we can actually pursue happiness.
Somewhat leaky boat are on the lookout for a human companion. Not me. I have learned to love the inside of my own head. There isn’t much I’d rather say than think. Of course for more than thirty years...
Here’s what I love about dogs. They aren’t careful not to disturb you. They don’t overthink. They jump on the bed or the sofa or the chair and plop down. They come and they go. I’m not sure they love...
Here’s what I love about painting. It’s not about words or voice or tone or point of view or narrative arc (perish the thought); it’s about the way certain branches stick straight out from the trunks...
I am trying to convince myself that failure is interesting. I look the word up in the to find its earliest incarnation, but it has always been just ‘failure.’ There’s no Indo-European root meaning or...
Why does forgiveness irritate me so much? I ask Chuck.Because it's the ultimate act of passive aggression, he says.Because it keeps sin alive, says my sister.
I feel only gratitude. We are doing something as necessary to our well-being as food or air or water. We are steeping ourselves, reassuring ourselves, renewing ourselves, three creatures of two specie...
Showing 41 to 60 of 91 results