Polly

My first GF and I ran away when we were 14. 8th grade, Unionville-Chadds Ford, PA, November 1993. We jogged in our Doc Martens and distressed HOT TOPIC flannels through the parking lot, over the football and track fields, and entered the woods. There were crackling...

Does It Have Eyes?

From a distance, they looked like rocks. Large, sea-beaten and sandy rocks.  A foggy day at Drake’s Beach. The sea was quiet and the world still. You could ride a bus to the lighthouse but the lines were long and we were only there for the day and who wants to...

This Is Me, Being Brave

There are things about my childhood that I’ve never told anyone.  Not even a therapist.  I’m not proud of this. When I was young, you did what you had to do in order to survive.  Mostly that meant staying silent, keeping your thoughts to yourself.  You lived inside...

Review of Walker Pass

I grew up on the western side of Walker Pass, and I crossed it thousands of times throughout my childhood, from home, to the desert, and back again. Five days a week, every week, beginning when I was five and ending when I was 18. And after that, I crossed this pass...

Rambles with Nature

I am given to long peripatetic walks through outlying districts.  Past rust-encrusted fences and cement-block lots, along fetid, long-stilled waterways next to crumbling skeletons of once-thriving commerce abandoned bathtubs half-filled with dirt over a once-upon-a...

In a Mood

“Don’t go down there,” my grandmother says, as soon as we walk through the door.  “He’s in a mood.”  But we had driven for an hour, which, to a child, feels like a day.  And so I go barreling down the steps into the rec room my grandfather built to sit near him. When...

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