There are the things I will miss, of course. The early morning walks through the sagebrush, crumbling the fragrant stems between my fingers as deer bounded over the back hillside.
The morning after the fire, I clear away the outdoor chairs and tables and barbeque and whatever else doesn’t belong in the kitchen to where it does belong until I
I didn’t even know the show was happening, not until a few days ago, when my friend told me he had an extra ticket. I knew the band, of course.
I’d almost eclipsed my Pitfall high score on the Intellivision when my mom yelled up the stairs. We were leaving early for the 4th of July festivities at the local golf course,
My mom used to make pancakes on Sunday mornings. Not long ago, I found her recipe in a drawer, typed on her old stationary, with Mrs. Woodard printed in fancy
He lumbered along the pavers, under the eaves at the far corner of the house, closer to home with each small step. At least I think he was a he.
She took a chance on me. Maybe more like a calculated risk. Not that I’m a loose cannon, of course. But this corporate summit, for one of the most iconic