Long ago, in another life it seems, I walked the halls of the Sturgis High School. I remember during my Freshman year, taking a bogus Independent Study class (last of the day) and waiting for passes to spring me from it so I could leave Campus a bit early (I swear I was a...
The visit was an accident. A first for her that happened on a mild winter day, walking hand in hand with me as she asked where we were going. Where we were going, sweet little girl, is to see where your Dad’s Memorial Bench sits… we’re going because as I watch you run around...
One. Jess is my hair person. I adore her for her talent, but mostly for the conversations we inevitably have. She’s young and smart and a dreamer. She doesn’t own a computer or a cell phone. She says she likes coming home to messages on her machine. She likes the sound of human voice....
I have pictures of her in this same tutu from two years ago. I laugh at how I dress her exactly the same. Tights, boots, piggies. I sit and look at these pictures, remembering how Lindsay trick or treated with me. Newly married and no baby. How we tried to get Claire into her...
Running along the sidewalk this morning, I’d make mental deals with myself. If I make it to the end corner, next bench, over the bridge, to the tree with low branches, I could stop. This way, I end up running the entire way, but trick my body into thinking it will stop soon. Can’t believe...
