Tag: #love

The Library

This is the third time I’ve been to the Cambria Public Library on my trip to nowhere, my pause, before the next step. I am surrounded by masters. I am in a sanctuary of accomplished and one-hit (maybe) wonders and writers who got their… Continue Reading “The Library”

Sound of Silence

The campground is still. Everyone cleared out early this beautiful, drizzly, grey morning because of last night’s downpour. I can’t blame them. I did the same thing, breaking camp at record speed from the primitive campground I was able to secure at the last… Continue Reading “Sound of Silence”

Week Three Without a Home

I don’t know why I’ve been avoiding this. Writing. Figuring things out. The Scary Silence. The deadline-less lifestyle. The lack of traffic and noise. The simple, simple life I lead. Surely, in this floatation passage of Week Three Without a Home I have figured… Continue Reading “Week Three Without a Home”

Hello

I am in the process of healing those below-the-surface microrganisms–-emotional bacteria. I knew it was there, but the gurgling junk—The Why behind The Why—was easy to bury beneath The List of Tasks and Shoulds. Keep calm and carry on sort of thing. Well, here’s what I… Continue Reading “Hello”

For Good

“We’re going to miss you. You may not be aware, but you’ve been an asset to your neighbors, and the neighborhood,” a fellow former teacher, neighbor and parent to former student, Cole, told me the other day. He’s 23 now. An assistant superintendent at… Continue Reading “For Good”

Feeling the feelings

It’s been hard for me to write. It’s been hard for me to talk. It’s been hard for me to breathe. It’s been hard for me to put one foot in front of the other, knowing that everything is about to change; accepting, crying, laughing, my… Continue Reading “Feeling the feelings”

It’s all a matter of perspective

Just saying, RV generators are the enemy of quietude-seekers I’ve had some brilliant, peaceful, coastal windy camping days. All of my neighbors have been kind, quiet and respectful. The woman to my right, Clarita, lives in San Luis Obispo and is on a fixed… Continue Reading “It’s all a matter of perspective”

I jumped

Sometimes, a lot of times, no, most days, I don’t want to write. I know it may sound strange since I’ve known I was a writer since the 3rd grade and Miss Maxine Way at Beryl Heights Elementary School pronounced in her Southern drawl, “Janet, you… Continue Reading “I jumped”

Dazed and becoming less confused

A long time ago, in the days when people wrote letters and there was no such thing as texting and Instagramming, my girlfriend, Julie, and I would write each other. I addressed the letters to Dearheart and placed the time, date and mood of… Continue Reading “Dazed and becoming less confused”

It’s been a long time since I …

…woke up at 4 a.m. and started writing. No deadline. No subject matter in particular. Just the rumblings of life. Maybe it’s the wind. There’s a turbulence, a change, a danger lurking in the moon-lit, cloud-filled sky. Something new. Something old. Are the raccoons… Continue Reading “It’s been a long time since I …”