Monthly Archives: December 2013


Emma’s mom watches us back down the driveway, her arms crossed against the chilly air. The lights falls around her silhouette. Headlights highlight her unreadable expression. An older me would have been grateful for her concern. The person sitting in … Continue reading

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Apparently I Wrote This…

My baby, why do we keep on moving? Which of us needs to go and hates to stay? I smile, you wink. We hold hands. We hold each other. We can’t hold still. I eat, you go to work, I … Continue reading

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I Was

I was a good writer, once. I was a good writer because I wrote. I wrote because I had that fire inside, the one they talk about, the fire that kept Hemingway drunk and Emily alone. The fire that my … Continue reading

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