My journal of big words and pretty pictures
Floating free, the tenuous threads that keep us bound to the earth, loosed from the hands of loved ones, follow just out of reach. As our brightly colored effigies are caught in warm thermals, drifting away on gentle breezes, we cling to our past, reluctant to give up so easily. Our ties to the living … Continue reading Floating free
Climbing over the teetering mound of lost luggage, I search for one particular suitcase. Worn from years of lugging it around the country, bumping along dead-end streets and seemingly endless highways. From the apex of cases, a landslide left a loose scree of smaller bags and satchels, spilling their contents along the way. From my … Continue reading Baggage claim
Sitting with my forehead against the oriel panes, my feverish breath fogged the air-conditioning chilled window. Lizards pranced across the hot bricks lining the front lawn, barely touching their vulnerable pads on the blistering concrete. I watched their acrobatics with muted amusement, but was too distracted to fully appreciate their performance. This miserable ague had drained … Continue reading Window lizards
Approaching the gate crossing, the train’s whistle blasted out a warning. Cargo crates, some stacked two deep, creaked as the trailers rumbled along the tracks. The locomotive’s headlamps, dim from layers of grime and oil, cast out little light into the darkening day. The train’s gentle rocking sometimes mollified the merchandise stored in the crates, … Continue reading Night train
My life was short, but sweet. I felt love and comfort, even if at the time, I didn’t realize that was what I was experiencing. There were no words for it then, merely burbles and coos. Before I came here, to this place of light and peace, my conscience mind wasn’t fully developed. I once … Continue reading Infant memoirs
When I was very young, my family lived in Oak Ridge. Located near Knoxville, in the foothills of East Tennessee, the rural burg was the epitome of small town America. The area, still rolling farmland then, was also very good at hiding an international secret. That is unless you knew its history. Oak Ridge was the national … Continue reading Secret history
Thin spiral notebook 