Tagged with Time

The Ordinary Tree

The Ordinary Tree

The Ordinary Tree 6:25 am and we sit in the chapel bleary eyed with sleep, psalm after psalm and outside the open window with the icons perched precariously is a tree. The leaves warrant not more than a passing glance – just plain old green with a few crab apples, not even good for flinging, … Continue reading

Wonder Years

This post is part of #Writing101, a course offered by Blogging U. The assignment: to write the first of several pieces about loss. You can read another piece about Grandma Jeanne, or this piece about bike riding.  ——– With my two feet level on the pedals, knees straight and butt off the seat, I could cruise for … Continue reading

Layers of a Place

Layers of a Place

The very first time we pulled into the parking lot, it was after an overnight drive. Something about a sunrise arrival sinks into your pores and won’t let go: the way the rising sun glows pink, brightening over the pines; the vague scent of salt in the air as it travels from the coast inland; … Continue reading

Bike Ride

C’mon, Mommy! My limbs, awkward and unused, lacking a youthful litheness I once took for granted, gently obey. I balance tippy toe, and the bike wobbling underneath, patiently waits for me to settle. My hands grip the handlebars and suddenly it’s my fifteen year old hands holding tight and I’m off to visit Grandma Jeanne’s. … Continue reading

On Turning Nine

The unnatural pink glow from your lava lamp  is now the hue in which I see you at night, all snuggled with your brother, the two of you atop ringlets of purple, swirls  on the comforter that you chose last year from Target.   Your fairy pi’s tossed carelessly  over the edge of the bunk … Continue reading

The Attic

Dust swirls and drifts, tiny bits of time alighted by the winds of now. A lifetime of undisturbed solitude has passed for these moments of childhood, preserved in inky papers, headlines blaring silently. Memories flood the senses, washing away time. Was it really he who built this lego ship? Was it these hand that labored … Continue reading

No one told me

No one told me that until she was born, time would stop. Those pregnant moments of my pregnant life ticked by. How could the Red Sox play ball? (And win?!) How could the weatherman point to clouds and sun – again? How could she talk about dinner and he talk about indigestion, when inside of me, life quickened, … Continue reading