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: Faith
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.
The Blanket
A half-dachshund, half-Jack Russell who came as our son’s birthday gift and chose my wife instead. Seven years in, she still growls when I carry her where she already wants to be.
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.
A Fixed Point
I listened back through a book that mattered to me in my twenties and it went flat. Then a book I'd bounced off years ago opened up. A book is a fixed point. You are not.
