When I first got today's prompt, I felt a little bummed since I couldn't think of any human that I genuinely wanted to write about -- at least not recently. Then, I thought to myself, this essay doesn't have to…

Right now I'm thinking a lot about the past. My brother, 16 months younger than I, died unexpectedly last fall, one day after his 68th birthday. I moved away more than 40 years ago, but In recent years, we would…

"I owe you my life, Josh. You called 9-1-1, and I owe you my life, Brock," Alaina said, throwing her arms around him, "because you knocked Stan out. Who knew you could hit like that? You have so many surprises."…

Overwhelmed! Late last night the feeling of being overwhelmed rose. Being a detail oriented person as a learner this feeling is familiar. A little bit of context. So far this winter I have signed up for a writing class and…

After leaving the paved roads, we found ourselves at the top of a rise, looking over an expanse of farmland, probably taro fields. We were on Guam, Trust Territory of the Pacific, A U.S. "possession". My buddy was "Willy" from…

This is the resistance I have to overcome. It’s harder somehow to write a day after I’ve loved the experience. It’s always a sense of, right that’s done, no more left. It’s too hard to try again because it won’t…

Padraig O'Tuama says that alliteration is beautiful because it lets the sound of syllables know that they need never be alone. They can have a companion kindred spirit sound. They can have a mutual recognition that needs no further vocalization.…

Power tools. I’ll admit it. I’m definitely not the handyman we, many of us, probably including me, assume that every man to be. It is as if it is a genetic credential for having the Y chromosome you have to…

The image is of my Daddy, young and handsome, and my brother Richard, who looks to be about 3 or 4 years old, sitting on the edge of a porch or deck somewhere in the woods, with leather suitcases nearby.…

Violet light peeked through the darkness. The birds were already awake but the streets were quiet. Some of us took the bus, which always arrived too late or too early, and some of us drove, eyes blurry through frosted windshields.…

I owe you my life. I was loved by you and you knew that I loved you.