A few days ago, we walked the beach on a cool, cloudy day. Moon jellies lay splattered about every fifty…
Loose Ends: Dangling
I let the day go by without comment. January 13th—the first anniversary of the day our Big Dog left…
Busyhead: Anxiety as a symptom of grief
My head is full of bees. Thoughts hum constantly and without direction. Grief has been the strangest animal for me.…
Afscheidswals
Excerpt from a work-in-progress on this National Mutt day for my most beautiful mutt. April 2019 I hear, tonight, no…
Art & Grief: Finding the Perfection in the Imperfect
I stitched and the dog snored and life was sweet and warm. I finished the biscornu and in all those stitches and waves and snoring came words for the page…
The Joy Between Naps: Facing Mortality
When you walk beside someone daily, you don’t always see the subtle changes in their bodies and faces as they…
Lost Art
These things cloud my head (with my permission) like a perpetual flu. If I were an addict, I could blame drugs or booze, but my addictions are the 3 x 5 screen in my hand and the constant reexamination of pain and rage. Better to binge on pixels and past hurts than to leave the chasm in my brain agape because I simply can’t properly fill it.
Health, Hope, and Mud-Dung Candy: Living in the Present
I came away from Facebook for a few weeks. I logged back in a few times not because I wanted…
Porpoises and Purposes
A pod of porpoises often comes close to shore near our new home. It seems, if you’ll forgive the anthropomorphism, that they are making fun of the fishermen on shore.
A Talking Dog and Choppy Seas
How Saturdays would happen if the Big Blind Dog had language: I awaken and get out of bed. My husband…