a collection of prose that lives as fickle memories.

the sconce

When the light turns on, everything within a two foot radius illuminates with a warm, candlelight color. The desk’s antique brown stain shimmers, the pages of the notebook turn caramel, and the wall tapestry marries forest green tones with light

yesterday

Since yesterday, I’ve been unable to explain what it is I mean to say. In fact, I’ve been saying things that I don’t mean to say at all.

parker house rolls cafe

We’d head there every other Sunday right after church. It seemed like it was one of Don’s favorites as much as it was my grandsons. They both liked something about circling what they wanted on the menu and handing it off to the waitress.