Not really blog posts and too short to be essays, these quick pieces will get you in and out in no time. Hope you enjoy them.
So you had a bad date? I’ll tell you what a bad date is.
A 1970s apartment, L walks up the open steps.
Stale smells waft in dim light.
P opens the door.
P can’t stop talking, moving. Nerves or ADHD?
L goes along.
P brandishes his guns.
L is fascinated by this unknown.
Light refreshments are served: Cheetos and chips.
P turns too quickly; L is too close.
A collision, a gash in L’s head, a trip to the ER.
You call it a play date. I call it hell.
All Dried Up
“Memere, there’s your church,” Lucas, age 3, told his grandmother, as we drove by the stone and stained glass windowed building. I smile proudly at my son, even though I am a one-time atheist turned agnostic who finds spirituality in a quiet stand of pines, grass pushing through a cobblestone sidewalk, and other safe places that do not involve human egos.
“Where’s your church?” asked Memere, a devout Catholic and two-time novitiate who reluctantly left the church and mothered four children instead of Jesus.
“My church is all dried up,” said Lucas; Mother and Memere wince. Lucas laughs like a god.