In the midst moments
A hazy, lazy autumn afternoon lit by slanting sunlight. The day slipped away like water in my hands. I dove in and out of my book, rising periodically to brew another cup of tea, pop popcorn, peel a tangerine. My sister, sprawled on the couch beside me, tapping on her laptop, the clicking of the
I step out of the freezer, and immediately inhale smoke. I’m not sure it’ll ever stop being alarming, for that split second before my brain catches up with my senses and I remember that everything is fine, this is a usual occurrence, it’s under control. Sous chef Rosa is cold-smoking creme fraiche again. It’s a
“I’m at the gas station,” I said. “I’m leaving now.” The gas line clunked and the numbers on the pump stopped climbing. I pulled the nozzle out of the tank and clicked it back into place. “Okay. Text me when you get home.” “Bye, Mom. I love you.” I unplugged the white headphones, rolled them
I’m writing this post because I’m procrastinating on my current copywriting assignment. This is the current state of my affairs: I do productive things to put off other productive things. That isn’t a humble brag—I’m not that disciplined. I’m just that busy. And sleep is a necessary thing, apparently. (I keep trying to pretend it
Warm, hot wind. Waves licking the shore. The flash of an eagle’s wings against its white head and the blue sky. This is the lake. Unforgiving sun. The relief of the shade. The gentle rocking and leaning of the old, groaning dock. Generations of spiders’ webs and swallows’ nests in the paint-flecked eaves. This is