Even in the Darkest Hours

Something crashes. The trash can outside? The rain barrel? What is that? In the dark (what hour is it?) I hop up from bed and run to the backdoor, my dogs growling and scrambling around my feet. I flip on the porch light to see that some boxes I had sitting on top of the …

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That Dang Exhale

Three years ago, I posted an essay called, "An Exhale." That story went on to be published in two nonfiction anthologies which can be found here and here ---publications for which I'm not only proud, but grateful to have had the opportunity to share with others the potential catastrophe that hurricanes can bring: not just …

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Porch

One week ago, I sat on my porch and watched a diagonal thunderstorm. Branches and leaves flailed violently and I’m not sure the thunder ever stopped---instead it hummed low like an idling truck with shocks of explosions here and there. Its growl never stopped, though. Out there on my porch, I stayed awake the entire …

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In Orbit

It’s 3:30 in the afternoon on a clear, late-spring day in Texas which means that it’s painfully bright outside. That’s not to say I’m not grateful for the sunshine, but it’s times like this I wish I’d just go ahead and get myself some prescription sunglasses. In quarantine, I have yet to wear my contacts …

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Brakes

I’ve no idea the time of day. Through the slits in the shutters it’s light, but dim. Maybe it’s cloudy or maybe we’re dipping towards the evening. I really have no idea. Although I can’t see them, I know my eyes are swollen because even that dusty blue light trickling in burns the backs of …

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Grow. Grief.

It’s dark out which by no means means it is late. No. We have entered that time of year where the sun falls at 4:30PM forcing the chickens, ducks, donkeys, dogs, and heck even myself into an earlier, Pavlovian need to eat and bunk down for the night hours before they (we) otherwise should. I’m …

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Softness

I’m sitting in my spot---the one in the far, left nook of the couch by the window that looks out towards the donkey’s barn and pasture---as my coffee cools and the night is swelling into its final, heavy moments before the prick of dawn. I spent the fifteen or so minutes before this trying to …

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Roots

It’s a chilly afternoon and I’ve finally decided to clear the weeds and old roots from the garden in order to prepare for a new, spring crop. My fall garden was a bust: I didn’t do enough research on planting in sticky, gumbo soil and we had a bizarre, hard freeze in mid-November which killed …

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Humidity. Healing.

Few places hold a torch when it comes to humidity intensity in the East Texas piney woods, especially after four straight days of early-summer rainfall. Breathing outside during dawn or dusk is like inhaling warm, invisible snot that sticks in little teardrop beads to every single part of you. It’s oddly sentimental though; growing up …

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Tiny Dots

It’s late. I’m not sure of the time, but it’s been night for a while---long enough for the dark to feel damp and for the scattered clouds to have a purple tint. In my jammies and boots without socks, I’m walking through the wet grass out to the barn where Bunny, Tee, and Baby Bodhi …

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