A few of the things that are difficult when you live in a place where it's -11 degrees at 9:25 a.m.

That your nose hairs freeze the second you walk outside. That you cough uncontrollably the second you walk outside. That your booted, double-socked toes are continually stubbed as you kick repeatedly at frozen dog turds while on poop patrol. That you have to hunch down to the level of the steering wheel in order to … Continue reading A few of the things that are difficult when you live in a place where it's -11 degrees at 9:25 a.m.

Sleepwalker, a poem

A child enters my room sometime after midnight. I know it’s my son by the silhouette of his cheek, his spiky, sleep-tossed hair. I say his name. He doesn’t answer. I call his name again and again, he does not answer. It is my boy, isn’t it? Or have I transformed a masked stranger into … Continue reading Sleepwalker, a poem

January 2007

Once There Was Once there was a childhood full of space. Long stretches of stillness. A deep sense not of loneliness but alone-ness. This was in far upstate New York, in the foothills of the Adirondack Mountains. There were three little girls, sisters who dressed up for Easter, and for the first day of school, … Continue reading January 2007