Familiar

Going through my father’s private papers and files after he died, a well-worn folder slipped to the floor. Faded to a pale blue, I could only imagine how thickly covered it was in my father’s prints. I picked it up gingerly and breathed it in – it smelled like Dad – a stab of grief. … Continue reading Familiar

A Collection of Small Things

Too many things on the brain, not enough energy to make them all into individual posts.

Commonplace

On “bits of the mind’s string too short to use, an indiscriminate and erratic assemblage with meaning only for its maker.”