Landsongs
Is that what familiarity with a place is? The memory of one’s own song being sung back to them by the place itself?
Is that what familiarity with a place is? The memory of one’s own song being sung back to them by the place itself?
Time to take flight myself, I guess.
My love for my father feels like a warm fire like the morning sun sounds like misty rain like …
It was my second Mother’s Day; Kyle was nearly two years old, and we were out shopping as a family. …
A few evenings ago I went to a talk given by someone whom I have long admired for his writings. …
I see a mother offering so much more than a piece of apple to her child. It’s as if all the surrounding apples, leaves, branches, and blades of grass represent all the possibilities awaiting the child.
I stood on a hill top this morning, looking down across a meadow and further out across the waters of …
Yesterday, I had lunch with a friend whom I have not seen in eighteen years. A young person’s lifetime. Tim …
He smelled of cheap cigarettes and stale coffee, like the back of some old “last gas here” station, where the …
The perspective from here is so much different. If you aren’t here yet, I can only say that I will nod my head knowingly when you come to this phase of realization; and if you are here, I am smiling with the knowing that we have this common understanding.