My 18-year-old son took a candy bag at a parade and came home with a couple of pounds. What it taught me about asking people to buy my work.
Nobody Earns the Bag
Tag: family
Even Further Down the Road
I wrote these lines at twenty years down the road and posted them again at twenty-four. Here they are at twenty-eight, after a normal Saturday that was anything but.
Arm’s Reach
A man, a toddler with an iPad, and eight feet of downtown sidewalk between them. I got angry faster than I expected, and the anger wasn't really about him.
Cardboard
A man with a cardboard sign at a red light, two dollars, and the questions that follow you down the road. The old story about the son who left, told from the top of the last hill.
The Table
There's a crack down the middle of my kitchen table. You can't see it anymore. The table is a hundred and fifteen years old and it had a family before it had us.
