We see him as we come to the crest of the hill. At first glance, it looks like he is limping. And I think, “Okay, this is good–if he’s hurt, the nature center is right there.”
Only he is headed in the wrong direction. Coming down the hill, away from the center.
I realize then, though, that he isn’t limping at all. He is sort of…skipping. Almost dancing. But as he comes closer, I see that he is crying, too–really crying…
“I can do this” I tell myself. “I can run for food with a squirmy, high energy toddler.” I think of going through the drive-through but when he sees the slides, he begs for me to park. I have a gut feeling about how it could possibly play out but choose to allow him that fun opportunity…
The nausea sits low in my stomach, not completely washed away by the arrival of my seatmate. I study her as she sits down next to me, providing an interruption to my preflight nerves. She’s a petite, young woman, which makes me feel instantly better about the next ten hours we will spend tethered together in the air…
I am looking forward to going to a friend’s party near work, but I am not about to drive an hour home just to drive an hour back to this side of town. So, I walk to the hotel bar across the street from work to kill time. It is Friday so the bar is packed; all I want is a little spot to order some sliders. I finally find one empty stool in the corner of the bar, and I ask a redheaded lady beside it if anyone is sitting there…
I should have gotten up a few minutes earlier. I’m schlepping my bag, and a giant box of decorations and cookies down the stairs. The frost on my windshield is going to take a few minutes to scrape, and I still need to stop and pick-up some extra-snacks for the classroom party. I am crawling to the finish line. I am teacher tired…
I wake up, my body still sore from being hit by a car last month. I’m tired of speaking to police officers, medical professionals, and insurance agents. I don’t want to talk to anyone today. I just want to be left alone, but I make myself get out of bed and go to school…
Being that I am a college student, boredom comes faster than excitement can keep up. "Let's go to the mall" my friend texts. There it is, my hint of excitement for the day. It's a sunny Saturday and the mall is packed. My friend and I grabb a table at the food court where we love to spill our souls. Our "gossip table", I usually call it. "I feel like my life is going nowhere" my friend starts. Ah, something we have in common. The anxiety of living life with no Destination.
"Hello" a male voice echoes…
“Thanks for calling BelBrite Technical Support. This is Kevin. Can I have your name?” A deep voice says, breaking through a stream of hold music.
I stare at a string of work emails on my phone, reading angry subject lines from higher-ups…
It is the second day of our senior trip, and everyone is enjoying the beautiful beach time and the $3 margaritas that our lovely bartender keeps pouring. It's no later than 2 p.m. and we are all about three drinks in, when all of a sudden a loud voice from behind me shouts, “I need a partner for Spikeball!” There are only two ways to go about this: (1) Follow my instincts and the alcohol telling me to play or (2) let him lose…
I’ve arrived early for my yoga class. More accurately, I am so late for my regular class that I decide to wait for the next one. I’m not sure what to do. I never hang out at my health club. I usually get here late, take a class and hurry out.
I’m preoccupied by worrying about my daughter. She’s been suffering strange symptoms…
It springs from the piney woods of East Texas unexpectedly, like an unrepentant gargoyle atop a serene house of worship. To those behind the double fencing of heavy gauge chain link and razor wire, the Allan B. Polunsky Unit is just Polunsky. Among the many souls inside are three hundred waiting for the solitary drive of fifty miles to a death house within a place called The Walls.
I have been tasked to deliver grim news to Polunsky…
After a long, hot afternoon at the park, my two daughters (a toddler and preschooler) and I head home. While navigating rush-hour traffic, I mentally “cook up” a plan for the dinner I’ll have to cook as soon as we get home. My girls crankily kick around, strapped in their car seats. When I reach a big and busy intersection, the yellow light changes to red. I slow to a stop and take a breath…
“Good catch, sorry about the weird leg thing.” It’s 8pm, there's a New England snowstorm raging outside, and my training partner and I are using the back part of a weightlifting gym so that we can continue with our acrobatics while the pandemic has shut down the circus world. Masks, hand sanitizer, distanced from everybody but each other, and worst of all, windows open. It’s worth it though. After a year of downtime due to injury, we’ll do anything to make progress…
I’m on a hike with a group of friends, and because I’m not the best about getting in exercise I end up setting a pace with a lot of breaks. On the bright side, these breaks allow for conversation and connection. During one such break we’re discussing time spent with our parents when a middle-aged couple comes by from the opposite direction…
I wait on the platform with bags under my arms and under my eyes. It’s cool outside, and the recent August rain has left the track damp, filling the air with the smell of wet steel and concrete. Gold numbers shining on the marquee compete against the lights of the city skyline. 11:36pm.
Finally, I can make out a glowing light in the black distance…
I’m 15 years old, living out my punk-rock dream standing in the pit while the stage is being set for Fall Out Boy. The whole crowd is energized from seeing Paramore during the first half of the show. It’s that period between sets where you try to weasel your way closer to the barricade in front. Suddenly…
“What are you reading?” He asks as he sits beside me. The waning light through the Greyhound bus windows make him a grey shadow at first. A young man, still at least ten years older than my just-over-15, blonde curls and blue jeans, an intense focus in his eyes…
My mom has some errands to run downtown, so I ask if I can walk to the 7-11 and then go wait at the library. Sure, no problem. I'm thirteen, I don't need constant watching.
I am sitting outside of the library on a bench, drinking the largest sized Slurpee, when a man approaches me. He gives me very bad vibes…
WALL-E, the 2008 animated film about a robot cleaning up a post-apocalyptic Earth plays in the dark. The plane is quiet; the hum of the engine muffles the sounds of sleeping passengers all around me. I can’t sleep. This morning I got to the airport twelve hours early for a flight from Santiago, Chile to Miami, USA. The taxi driver took my last peso so my time in the airport was spent lying on the concrete floor and carefully rationing my trail mix before the flight. Now, finally in the air, I expect to feel relief…
I hate to fly. And I hate breakups. Put those two miseries together and you have my frame of mind as I wait for my flight at the Atlanta airport, on my way to Texas to cry on the shoulder of my best friend. In an unfortunate coincidence, the last place I saw my former beau, a couple of months ago, was RIGHT HERE, at this airport, at the end of a weekend getaway…
