Lament

I come to this winter season—this icy interlude of cold and snow and thin light–lonely. I am struck by the yawning emptinesses once filled by friends and family and colleagues who are now gone. This…

Drawing the Line

I was in college, but likely on holiday. Mother and Daddy and I were driving home from somewhere—the Dreshers maybe. I considered myself grown up and wise  but was still in the backseat of the…

The “What Was I Thinking” Shoes

Notwithstanding the modest income that kept our family afloat, Mother insisted that we wear good school shoes. They had to fit well; perhaps allow for a bit of growth through the school year; offer arch…

The Kitchen

I dream it into three dimensions so many nights— my growing up home. 830 North Ash in McPherson. The very last time I stepped inside for real—the rooms echoingly empty, I recorded the metallic rasp…

Safely Gathered In

Two posts ago, I jumped the gun with my essay on fighting to accept winter. Since then, the universe has served up an uncommonly lovely fall. We have had flickers of frost some mornings. We…

Voir Dire

I spent the lion’s share of my 76th birthday in Helena’s Justice Court. No, I was not the scofflaw. I was on jury duty—for which I managed to be selected out of something like 30…

Acceptance

This is an old song—for a new but disappearing summer. The berries, on Mary’s mountain ash, have begun their transubstantiation. From green to gold to orange. The mystery, the sacrament will end in scarlet. The…

Kittens

Hard to know whether the outrageous sum I paid Lowe’s for three pots of fake Boston ferns anchored in concrete was money well spent. On the one hand, I managed to save the heirloom begonias…

An App for This Age

Awhile back, I downloaded the phone app “We Croak.” It’s based on a Bhutanese belief that to live fully we must contemplate death often. Become its friend. Five times daily at random moments the app…