John had been here before, a long time ago. I watch as his eyes follow the train tracks into a copse of trees. His chocolate brown pupils have turned milky with age and look almost purple against the bloodshot whites. 712 more words
Tags » The Spiritual Life
“Don’t get your hopes up.” The inner voice pounced immediately, barely a heartbeat after my actual voice had said, “Wow, this could work out.”
Negativity is not my natural inclination, yet this mind-battle of the voices has been waging as long as I can remember. 874 more words
My neighbor stood at my back door in his usual state: bare torso sweaty, blue jeans dirty, and straw hat terminally tattered. Despite his appearance, a sweet, fresh aroma entered with him when I opened the screen door, as if he had just been rolling around in his herb garden. 1,139 more words
I met a girl this week, a charming spirit at the dawn of womanhood.
She was self-possessed for her thirteen years, bubbling over with enthusiasm, enthusiasm for the past — my family took a train up Mount Washington, and it was the… 1,064 more words
This post had been relegated to the “failed drafts” folder, for having no redeeming qualities and managing to sound pissy despite being toned down more than once, when who should walk into my living room and say, “whoa, stop, you should publish that” than my favorite author Anne Lamott!? 1,147 more words