This lovely woman’s photo found here by Dan Hutcheson, Creative Commons, cc I can see it now. The twelve men hunkered down around a small Middle Eastern table, knees brushing up against each other, carefully trying to edge their muddy feet away from the clothing around them. Similar to Mardi Gras or the Super Bowl,…

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 We were sitting there side by side, and tension was mounting. Long dark hair fell across her face and her eyes flashed. Wiping furious tears from her cheek, she grit her teeth, and I watched jaw muscles flex and clench. A homework assignment was aggravating her, and confusion masqueraded as fury. After several exasperated sighs,…

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The wind blew gales all night, buffeting the house, and we snuggled deeper under beds’ blankets. In dark twilight six am, five year old Daniel knocks on our door, and it’s my turn to get up with him. We lumber sleepy-eyed out to the couch, dodging Legos, to curl up in silence. Heavy snow drags…

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Photo credit: Daniel Ansel Tingcungco, Flickr, Creative Commons, cc It’s the tiny clues that hit my subconscious. Triggers of another plotline weaving briefly through mine. A dark-haired man drives his car around a curve and, in the sixty seconds I see him, he’s banging both hands on the steering wheel, and bouncing his body against…

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Photo Credit: Paulo Vicente, Creative Commons, cc It’s jarring and unexpected. Beer advertisements jangle loudly across my Kenny G saxophone instrumentals every five seconds. The latest in internet viruses seems to be this one, attacking online radio stations with incessant invisible advertisements. More than just the occasional advertisement between songs, these ads soon play nearly…

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Photo: Flickr User: Daniela Silicz, Creative Commons, cc There is a woman I know. Blonde hair hangs short on her neck as she races up and down stairs a million times a day, laughing breathlessly at the pedometer she wore for a week to count the steps. Steps that swept in love through peanut butter…

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Photo: Flickr User Tripu, Creative Common, cc  Pool waters sparkle against grey stone. Always the gentleman, he stoops low to ask. “Do you want to get well?”  That was the question. And in fact, it really was the issue wasn’t it? Because for as much as we gripe and complain about whatever is broken in…

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Photo Credit: Maria Rosaria Sannino, Creative Commons, cc It’s a little bit like showing up to school with no pants on. You’ve had that dream too, I’m sure. On a rushed morning getting ready for school, you dash out the door with your backpack and bag lunch. Not until you step out past the long…

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