Polly Smithton had two faces. Or maybe she had one face that was split down the middle. It was hard to know, really. But she was called Polly Two-Face, so there’s that anyway. Polly had a real wide forehead, with two widow’s peaks. One of her eyes was blue, and it was way far over... Continue Reading →
Weathered steeple towers,spirit is bleak;daylight quickly fading,young girl weeps.Stained glass is broken,moon reflects tears;wind blusters rawly,solace sought here.Altar is splintered,soul wrapped in steel;morning seems distant,now she kneels.Chapel is empty,heavens appear grey;faith feels hollow,still, she prays.Harp is silent,candles flicker dim;shadow seeking haven,whispers to Him.Wings are fractured,darkness settles deep;sorrow is hushed,young girl sleeps.Sun signals daybreak,blessed chimes ring;grace... Continue Reading →
I think that, in the end, my mother died a peaceful death. I wasn’t there,missed it by forty minutes. The call came at 6:00 a.m. I knew before Ianswered. I showered and started the three hour drive I now knew by heart.The cleanup of coffee spilt in my lap delayed me. My two sisters were... Continue Reading →
Wouldn’t It Be Nice (The Beachboys)It must have been June, when local berries tasted like summer sun. TheStrawberry Social was in a church basement, just over the hill from ourhouse, at the edge of the village. Brown brick. White wooden sign, engravedblack lettering. ‘Evangelical United Brethren’. We called them E.U.B.’s. I satwith my parents and... Continue Reading →
Ghosts gathered in the corner of the antique shop, pulsed around the old woman as her hand reached out, touched the glass knob of the percolator. Stains of long use rendered the top opaque. A caramel-colored memory flared as fingers connected with cool glass. As a young girl, she used to stare at it. Tried to capture the moment water became coffee. At... Continue Reading →
Is it true, she asked? Are there only twenty faces in the world? An explanation, perhaps, to why she appeared familiar to another. She placed her hands on each cheek. Hers, the kind with a blocky jawline. Irish, like a Kennedy. Twenty: such a round number. Convenient. But who has scanned the world across all ages and counted only twenty different faces? An... Continue Reading →
