When I moved to the bungalow in Fairfield, the lease said no dogs. I asked for permission and the landlord said okay, one dog. But I had two. Fifteen-year-old Sugar and four-year-old Josie. I am a rule follower, a follower in general, and it feels shameful to lie. But the
The other night at Artisan, a fancy dinner place in town, I observed a baby-faced blonde woman in a halter top, eensy skirt and white go-go boots weave through the tables to join a bald older man at his table. Let’s call him Old Grodo. I asked my dinner companion,
Yesterday my favorite waitress Debra swung by the table to take my order, one that she already knew. I noticed Debra had a deep tan in the dead of winter, except for the white skin right around her eyes that gave her the look of an ocelot, and when she
Teach us to number our days, that we may gain a heart of wisdom. Psalm 90:12 Today Josie and I slept in and by the time we got over to the cemetery, our pack was just leaving. That would be Gabriel, Hazel, and Max, plus the owners who love them.
There you are, on the tire swing. Your sister is swinging you so high. You and she have names for all the types of swings you have, names like the Disco Duck or the Double Dutch Bus. She swings you high, with all her might, and you have to hold
I. Kari and Steve That day after school we laughed so hard that Kari snorted Pepsi out her nose and I fell to the kitchen floor. Steve giggled his high-pitched laugh that went up and up and up that made me laugh even harder. It had to do with the
In the twilight of October 29, my mother arrived for a visit to my home, traveling all the way across the country. It was the first time ever. She had vowed never to fly after being on an airplane that was struck by lightning. “Even the Monsignor was praying,” she
In my life-long shunning of my mom, I pretended that her history had nothing to do with my history. In all the ways that she was, I wanted to be different. After a childhood that braided love with neglect, indulgence with abuse, I wanted nothing to do with her. Even
For my mother, Judith Ann BurnsOctober 30, 1946 – August 22, 2025 What happens when a girl of 17, imprisoned in her father’s violence and alcoholism, escapes by dropping out of school and marrying a man she doesn’t love? That was the premise of my mom’s life. A seed of
Two days ago, on a perfect August Saturday, a girl sat in the Lewiston City Library. She wasn’t fidgeting or whispering. She sat perfectly still, pivoted in her chair to listen to the lecture on Ice Age Idaho. She was maybe ten years old, her freckled face a bit ketchupy,
