The Log

Sleep is elusive at 60. Whereas babies and children used to wake me in the middle of the night, and after that, teenagers coming in late, now getting up for the bathroom does. Once I'm awake, it's hard to get back to sleep.  And then there are the unexplained wake up calls, the ones that… Continue reading The Log

Dark Thirty

Time stops in the dark. Before dawn, it yawns and stretches. Putters. Lingers. Moseys. Puts on coffee. And sits. Waits. Makes room. I remember endless time before clocks and counting, when the first day of school and the last stretched out like Highway 16, Macon to Savannah. Nowyearscram instead of c r a w l… Continue reading Dark Thirty

Making Room

I sat at the gate, sweating, praying that the Uber driver coming would be female. It was muggy-hot, like the air needed a good rinsing, and I chugged my Smart Water. The sky had clouded up since I’d sat down, a few raindrops on the sidewalk were disappearing. We’d had a little mix up about… Continue reading Making Room