Though awash in the deep shadows of late evening, my face is aglow with the reflected light of a single, hearty flame rooted in the concrete before me. The flame bends and writhes in the breeze which channels between the massive stone columns to my right and my left. I…
Stymied
Tonight I submitted my entry for a (very) short story contest at NPR.org. It's a contest they've run once before, and I truly enjoyed listening to the finalists read their stories on the air. In brief, the guidelines include a max word count of 600 words and each entry…
Apologies
Apologies are tricky. When we were little, my brothers and I committed an endless stream of wrongs against one another. Once we'd been caught by the folks, each of us was directed to apologize to the victim of the teasing, the ostracizing, the exclusion, the punching, the ditching, or the…
Waking Up is Hard to Do
It is a quarter to six. Our window is open. A thick layer of cloud stretches the expanse of the sky. Sprinklers twitch. Birds whistle. Their songs are long and breezy, as cool as the morning air. The tires of an early commuter's car crunch on the asphalt. My eyelids…
Awakening the Root
I dedicate this entry to my husband, the best man I've ever known. Happy 5th Anniversary, Mr. Jonathan Peter Camp! Five years ago, I stole down the curving staircase in my parents' home, an undulating cloud of white train and veil in my wake. My hands met Jonathan's first, anxious…
For Love of the Fair
Every year, Jonathan and I spend a Saturday at the Alameda County Fair. We make kissy noises at the baby animals, marvel at the talent of the amazing Alaskan Racing Pigs, holler from the grand stand at the horse track ("Come on, Dover! Move your bloomin' ARSE!"), and eat terribly…
Meandering - Volume II
Tuesday nights, several young women and I get together at a local coffee shop for fellowship and coffee and a chance to vent and lean on one another. It's a group which is ever evolving, changing locations, changing members. We've discussed books by C.S. Lewis and Lauren Winner, chapters…
Of Cats and Dogs
Before I begin, I must say that my heart belongs to a Weimaraner named Scout. Part of his story is told here, but I can't really tell it all, both because I was not privileged to know more than his first few years and because his not being with me…