twenty three

Today marks my son’s 23rd birthday. So I felt it appropriate to write a bit about him. As far as children go, some people want a bunch. I wanted two. I wanted a boy and a girl. The boy being the oldest. And that’s what I got. Interesting, since other details of my life haven’t … More twenty three

windows

A man came to my house today to look at a broken window. The plan is he will get back to me after the holidays about fixing it. It’s cracked. In need of repair. A small window. I am reminded, inside my head, of small windows. As in time. My daughter is currently home. As … More windows

the process

I took a walk yesterday evening. I like to walk despite the fact I like to run. I came home after work, after teaching a piano lesson. And decided to walk. Even though. I had a dishwasher to unload. Clothes to fold. Emails to read and respond to. I decided to take a walk. Even … More the process

halt

August marches on to a grand halt. Tomorrow is the end. And I have mixed feelings.  I currently sit in a coffee shop. Pavement is the name. Located in Boston. It’s my third day in a row to sit here, in this very place. I have journaled. Thought. Talked a bit with my son. Drank … More halt

there are places

I wrote a blog entry when both my children were in high school, about how parenting is a series of good-byes. And in reality, the truer statement might be that life is a series of good-byes. People and places we love and care for. Which eventually, often times more than once, we have to tearfully … More there are places

all I’ve got

I’ve had the conversation with my daughter numerous times. I tell her I believe the work I do is important. Imperative. And it’s fine that it’s not on the front lines. That I’m not loud or in someones face. That I feel my work is to be there in the day-to-day. In the neighborhoods. With … More all I’ve got

sometimes I forget

Sometimes I forget about rain. And then it rains. Like right now. It’s currently raining. A soft rain. Not associated with a storm. It rarely rained in my hometown. So all those years, growing up, I never became familiar with rain. It was always a luxury. A special treat. No one owned an umbrella. When … More sometimes I forget