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The Gift of Found Time
“How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.” ― Annie Dillard A little over eight years ago my father’s heart stopped. One minute he was clutching his tennis racquet and waiting for...
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Twenty Nine
When I saw the prompt for an essay contest a while back, I couldn’t get it out of my mind. The prompt was this: write about a moment you would like to have back, to do differently if you could....
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Journey to Now, Again
I read MAGICAL JOURNEY last summer and shared my thoughts and a free copy about it here. The paperback version has just been released and Katrina Kenison is offering several opportunities to win a...
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About A Boy
Today, April 20, is about Easter. It is also about a boy. The boy in this picture came into my life on April 20, 1975. He doesn’t look this way any more. He’s taller, his shoulders sometimes hunch when...
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Monday Letters
It’s five o’clock on Monday morning and my mother sits in bed, knees up, a pad against her thighs, her second cup of coffee steaming within easy reach. Her pen flies across the page in front of her...
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Revisions
Revisions: a promising word that grows out of a hopeful thought: to see again. I’ve spent the better part of the past six weeks revising pages I’d “finished” two or three times already. More than once,...
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When I Die, I Want to Become a Tomato
When I die, I want to be composted. I’d like to come back as a tomato. When I tell my family this, they just sniff and look somewhere past my shoulder, as if I’ve just farted. If they picture it all,...
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Old Yeller and The Repo Man: Thanksgiving 1986
The movie is Old Yeller and it plays out on the television in the corner of the hospital room. My son, then eleven, watches from the bed through eyes compressed nearly shut by a sinus infection. An IV...
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Wild Women Walking
When I set out to write this essay, I thought I was going to write a droll list of reasons why I could never have written a book like WILD. The list would have included a story about me, a boyfriend...
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How We Spend Our Days: Elizabeth Marro
Source: How We Spend Our Days: Elizabeth Marro For fourteen years, this dog has witnessed every word I’ve written or struggled to write. When Cynthia Newberry Martin invited me to write about one of...
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