My journal of big words and pretty pictures
I kept going to the river to pray. I’d kneel at the water’s edge to wash my hands, or I’d wade knee-deep into the cold, rushing current until it would eddy around my legs. It was never enough to clean away my guilt and shame. Like my southern Baptist gramma used to say, “a little … Continue reading At the water’s edge
There wasn’t enough space in the garage for the old waiting room chairs, so Eugene left them out front, the bucket seats filling up with dirty rainwater that poured off the tarpaper roof. He remembered always sitting in a yellow chair while he waited at Dr. Wilford's for one of his therapy sessions. After Dr. … Continue reading Every other Thursday
Goodwood Duxford tales… Pepperidge Township shops shuttered their storefronts. Residents locked their doors and turned out their lights. A self-imposed curfew emptied the town streets, even dogs hid under porches and in barns sensing what ghastly horde was about to descend on their homes and lives. Concealing herself inside her bedroom closet, buried under a … Continue reading No man’s land
Thin spiral notebook 