If I were eleven, I would smell like sweat and sunscreen. I would live in a neighborhood with a windy road and a hill so I could ride my bike, the blue one with the peeling sticker, and never get bored. My bike would have a broken kickstand. I’d have to lay it near the…
The fruit in my kitchen looks nothing like a Cézanne. It’s different. Bruised a bit, with a couple of rogue produce stickers and a suspicious soft spot on the bottom lemon. My avocados are too ripe or hard as rocks, but the apples and bananas are delicious. It’s just fruit. Cézanne’s peaches are always stunning.…
My mom moved us from New York to Arizona the summer I turned eleven. When the plane landed, and 105 degrees of hell hit my face, I vowed to leave the state as soon as I was an adult and could make my own life. I left for college at eighteen and lived in Arizona…
If I were a painter, I would wear a twist of string tied to my ankle long ago by a lover who never promised and left before I ever asked. I would live and work in an echoing flat with iron floor-to-ceiling windows and colorful but cracked tile in the tiny toilet. The window near…
Jack has anxiety. He’s afraid of other dogs, which if I let it get to me, is sad. He is excluded from the raucous dog club. He doesn’t sniff butts or tangle leases with his friends. Instead, he is visibly distressed when he is around other dogs. After lots of work, he is better. He…
“Focus on small things like making tea. Be grateful and break things down to the tiniest piece until you can find good.” That was my response when my youngest, distraught by news and the world, asked me the point of life. Not an easy question at any age, but she wanted to know how I…
The hamster wheel is not about the hamster. Sure pet stores tout the need for exercise and occupation, but who’s really entertained by the fur friend running in endless circles? The ones who built the cage, I suspect. The wheel is in there, so those on the other side can clap. It’s a bit like…
The last day of 2021 deserves a blog post. Actually, 2021 was a real bitch and deserves nothing, but here goes. Endings are sometimes a party, but they are often tricky. The world lost Betty White today. OG move crossing to the other side on the last day of the year, but also difficult for…
Balconies are interesting spaces. A front yard or a porch are also revealing, but balconies are small pops of individuality amid a sea of windowed vertical boxes. I can’t say I ever noticed what my neighbors were doing when I lived among the streets, but now that I’m in an apartment, I can’t seem to…
