“Memory is the scribe of the soul.”
– Aristotle
One of my mom’s favorite sayings was “Life is not measured by the number of breaths we take but by the moments that take our breath away.” My family’s history is littered with beautiful souls whose lives were robbed of breaths but rendered bountiful in breathless moments. This hug is one of those moments. This…
The pursuit of writing requires having the words to explain unexplainable emotions and circumstances. There are times when the circumstance is so heavy that words fail me. Remembrance around 9/11 is one of those occasions. Finding words to remember a friend is another. Still, so many words come to mind from this picture. This is…
Life brings a variety of blessings. But of the more precious ones is encountering That Teacher. You know the one. That teacher who inspires, encourages, sees something in you that you never knew existed. You believe you are the smartest or most talented or most charming kid in the class when that teacher pours their…
This photo of my mother and me was found in my father’s wallet after he died at the age of thirty-three from lung cancer. I must be around two years old in the photo and my mother, twenty-one. At first, I regretted its wrinkles and creases and then admired them for what they revealed—the wear…
Is it possible to be haunted by a word? If so, my word is “javelin.” Could I have the definition, please? A light spear, usually thrown by hand. J-A-V Could you use it in a sentence, please? She grabbed the javelin and threw it across the field. I stood on that stage, a lonely seventh-grader with one…
This is my grandfather in WWII. It’s not his plane, of course. He was fighting for America. But I’ve always been intrigued by this photo, haunted by it. What was the backstory? Did he capture or kill the pilot of this plane? Did he just stumble upon the plane while on patrol and pause for…
