I feel like my father sabotaged me from the grave. I’d gathered the strength to do some sorting of his stuff, discarding things I didn’t think anyone would need – or want.
An early sign his mind was going – and he was fully aware of it – was an afternoon spent at his condo in Gainesville, maybe four years ago. He gave me a copy of his 1Password vault and more importantly, the…
The front door is where it all began every day. Not to take anything away from my old job, but when I think of home, the day begins when I return from work. In recent years I never quite knew what I was getting into until I got there, stood in front of our door, and opened it.
Sometimes what lay within was drown out by sounds outdoors – the weather, the tree blowing in the wind, children…
People romanticize snippets of the past and I’m no different. If you listen to me talk about my UF years, you’d think:
1. I got straight As.*
2. I spent four years in Gainesville with Cheryl, a time overflowing with love, joy, learning, and fulfillment.
3. Ambrosia came with every meal. They only had enough to serve it as a side though.**
4. Classmates followed me on campus, collecting…
I used to talk to my grandfathers as a child and as a young adult. I’m sure many of you did too. Some of your grandfathers may have passed on from the living too.
Sometimes it was out loud, as if I was talking to you – though I’d sure as hell make sure you weren’t there to hear me. As a child, sometimes it was a whisper filled with yearning, as if they’d be more…
You’ve heard a picture is worth a thousand words, but have you ever considered words can have infinite meaning? It’s the beauty of language; this thing our gray matter dreamed up to communicate. It’s so complex it’s a wonder we can keep it straight, and it explains why so many of us have trouble capturing its intricacies in print.
Just the words “for sale” can…
This is not a sad story.
Saying it up front kind of puts into question though, doesn’t it? Sows a little doubt maybe?
This is a story about home. It could be about your home or a friends home, but only you could write that post, or your friend. This is about scratches in the hardwood floors of a house in eastern Massachusetts, in a mysterious spiral pattern. It’s about a patch of…