My Old Friend

I began to miss her before she was ever gone. In my early twenties, I stood on a hand-built, wooden bridge one hot and humid summer night in rural Georgia, cheeks seared by salt-filled tears, drunkenly swapping sad dog stories and contemplating my owns aging—contemplating the elephant in the room toward which each of her … More My Old Friend

Aftershock

When I was little, I remember being in my first big earthquake. We were living in a small rental house on the northern California coast. I crawled along the floor still lost in my own imagination as everything shook, working the movement into my own internal script of the current adventure I was off on. … More Aftershock