Blog : Beautiful-Things
Holy, Holy, Holy
| July 17, 2017 On the morning after my mother's sudden death, before I was up, someone brought a basket of muffins, good coffee beans, and a bottle of cream-- real cream, unwhipped-- left them at the back door, and tiptoed away. I couldn't eat.
Reincarnation
| July 3, 2017 A radio interviewer asks an aging mystic, "What will you miss the most when you leave this world?"
Suspension
| June 26, 2017 We paddle to our campsite under blue skies, glancing at the horizon. Thunderheads boil upward from three directions.
Two Degrees
| June 19, 2017 I had to look it up in my old physics notebook, exhumed from its tomb of an ancient cedar chest and kept all these years as a talisman for time travel that the Internet could never touch.
Dinner Talk
| June 12, 2017 The asparagus grew in the Sicilian garden, and my mother made frittata that was sometimes lunch, sometimes dinner, sometimes snack...
This Is It
| June 5, 2017 1998. We stole it at night, one of us running across a lawn we had scoped out beforehand. With a firm kick, I popped it out neatly and ran away with it under my arm like a football, never really breaking my stride. The runaway car was there, waiting...
Shame and Drum
| May 22, 2017 In the Midwestern auditorium, a tired Richard Ford reads a fiction about Grand Central Station to a ticketed crowd as tired and sparse as his scalp. He is old and disappointed, and he is reading about old disappointment...
What Matters
| May 15, 2017 Thursday is "Cosmic Night" at the space centre. I am waiting for three friends by the giant crab outside. The late George Norris designed the twenty-foot sculpture. Stainless steel pincers grasp for the sky.
Yield
| May 8, 2017 Waiting at a red light after dropping off videos. I've nosed my car onto the cross walk, hoping it will trigger the light to change more quickly...
YES
| May 1, 2017 Anthony’s text just says, “YES.” I’ve decided to change my flight to Boston, to move it up five days. He’s floundering, just doesn’t sound right; the 25th could be too late. Sooner. Have to get there sooner...
Kinetic Energy
| April 24, 2017 Weeks after California first legalized queer marriages but before the voters snatched them away in 2008, my girlfriend introduced me to the dyke march...
Saturday Night
| April 17, 2017 Every day I flash on scenes and sounds of Fallujah. There are ways of grounding them...
Kerria
| April 10, 2017 “Cheerful!” she said, “What is it?” Then recognizing the compact rows of marigold trophies lining spray upon spray arcing over the yard, “Oh, kerria, that was my mother’s favorite.” A moment of silence for one mother’s mother gone twenty years...
Bottled Memories
| April 3, 2017 Golden jars glisten. Forty-nine quarts of autumn ripeness and summer’s bronze made sweet by the kiss of blizzards to come. Like a mother waiting for the reassuring cry of her newborn, I pine for the pop of jars sealing...
A Dress for the Wedding
| March 27, 2017 You are modeling dresses and your husband votes for the one with the bouncy hem and V-neck. "It shows your nice cleavage!" "Yeah, for everyone." But in fact, you like your cleavage, and it's good to like something about your body...
The Boarding School Letters
| March 20, 2017 But consider for example the six-year-old daughter, face down on her new dorm bed, who cannot possibly imagine what to write to her mother a thousand miles away...
Holding Hands
| March 6, 2017 We walk up the stairway of my grandmother's porch. Towers of brick flank the stairs, which later we will scramble up to leap into the soft green grass below...
Dead Man Tim
| February 27, 2017 Tim's apartment was cleaned and all his belongings put out on a curb in the parking lot. This is the saddest part...
Yes, They've Met
| February 20, 2017 There's a 1/16 scale Texaco truck parked on our mantle, its frame crooked and stack bent from ways it's been stored. I dust it. Then, I dust my son's toolbox, an eighth-grade shop project etched with the name he's inherited from good stock. My husband's grandfather drove a Texaco truck...
Ice
| February 13, 2017 I'm nine months pregnant with my first child, and the snow in NYC has been beaten into submission. I've just come off a packed subway...
Seattle, After the Rain
| February 6, 2017 To the birds, we must look like ants at a picnic, the way we crawl from our dark caves and run crazed for sidewalks and grassy parks...
This is Where You'll Find Me
| January 30, 2017 New York City, after we lied then made rules. It shouldn't work by a long shot but it does....
Lines of Light
| January 23, 2017 At sunset in Burlington the power lines are golden like the afterglow of sparklers when children twirl them in the air. A frayed ribbon of sunlight stretches out...
What We Did with the Honey
| January 16, 2017 The day we learned you were gone, Howie says he knocked, nothing answered.
Parabolic
| January 9, 2017 His first summer married, my father tended chickens. His job was to chase the birds out of the tin coop on hot days...
Morning (repeat)
| January 2, 2017 When my infant daughter wakes at two in the morning and her father cannot coax her back to sleep...
White (repeat)
| December 26, 2016 We no longer remember the sound of birdsong or the feel of dry pavement beneath our feet, but we walk to school anyway because school is the place we're meant to walk to on Tuesday mornings. Temperatures register -23 below zero...
Blog Archive
Related Topics
Related Topics
beautiful things (158)
jack bedell (1)
julia shipley (1)
lines of light (1)
morning (1)
parabolic (1)
white (2)
