My junior year of college, I went running and locked myself out of my apartment. Normally a hassle, it became a crisis because it happened to be the night before an early morning flight to Seattle; we were headed north in about ten hours, for Thanksgiving with my mom’s family. My roommate was already gone, my landlord nowhere to be found, and I didn’t even have a jacket with me, much less my car keys. Continue reading
On Fridays, we are bound for anywhere. Today, flock after flock of brown pelicans paced us as we headed first for lunch with my dad. Steady down the coast, we discussed directional cardinality, and left and right. (That is, Lucas pointed out that his left shoe is always his left shoe, and Jacob noted that left is always left, but left can also be north or south or east or west.) We talked about why the compass in the car wasn’t broken, even though it said for a while that we were driving west when Santa Cruz is south of us, and we wondered about how compasses work. (Magnetism and the poles, or something? Oh, right. I had mostly forgotten.)
Sometimes when I find that I can’t work through the words in my head, that I’m stretching to sift them onto a page, I put away my pen. A walk helps. But often I turn to someone else’s work. It’s a bit of a cheat, maybe. But depending on how I feel stuck, I have a medicine chest of writers close at hand, writers who can remind me of the many ways people make magic with words. In a lonely business, their voices can bring me back round to my own. Continue reading
I tell myself that I will remember them, running along the sidewalk to the pool, all sun-bleached hair and palpable joy. I will remember their sand-covered toes, the warm sweaty weight of their heads on my shoulder, the exact way that Lucas says “I not too little,” and how Jacob sounds out “square” as “scary.” I tell myself that I will remember, I will remember just how this summer is. I take pictures, to be my trail markers.
Of course, I know enough by now to tell you that memory doesn’t work that way. Continue reading
In addition to much squirrel watching and rock painting, fence climbing and flower picking, springtime brings Continue reading