Becoming Proust

Reflections on living three fifths a century     But old age, to begin with, has something in common with death. Some face it with indifference, not because they have more courage than others, but because they have less imagination.“ Marcel Proust, Time Regained – I am slowly turning into Marcel Proust. Okay, that may… Continue reading Becoming Proust

An Ugly Chair

Ordinary horror in the mundane The chair sits awkwardly in the shallow corner between the fireplace and the patio door (it’s a small apartment), shrouded under an ugly brown, queen-sized blanket I bought years ago on my way to a meditation retreat. That year we had a bitterly cold winter, and the retreat center was old… Continue reading An Ugly Chair

Writing Prompt 015

Flash Fiction Challenge 100 – Day 78 “A bicycle,” I say to the salesperson who asked me what I wanted. I mean, duh, we are in a bike store. I’m trying to slow the aging process. Also, I want to reduce my carbon footprint, etc. A bike for my commute to and from the massage… Continue reading Writing Prompt 015

Categorized as essays


Flash Fiction Challenge 100 – Day 52 It’s easy to slip into a poverty mindset when you grow up poor. Not only is there never enough, but you also absolutely believe there will never be enough. Permanent, debilitating financial ruin is just one mishap away. One unplanned emergency is all it will take to make… Continue reading Allowance


FLASH Fiction Challenge 100 – Day 26 Memory is such a funny thing. It is vastly more subjective that I thought it was in my twenties. It is not a file cabinet full of intact, coherent, cohesive facts that are strung together in any sort of narrative, yielding a ‘truth.’ Far from it. Memory is… Continue reading Memory

Categorized as essays Tagged


FLASH Fiction Challenge 100 – Day 25 I was sixteen years old and a junior in high school when I uttered the fateful sentence that would change how several classmates felt about me. “My dad dumped our dog, Shadow, yesterday,” I said. I had no idea what would happen next. There was a bit of… Continue reading Shame

Finding Time

He remembers. Riding in the back seat of their 1967 Chevrolet Bel Air. The windows slightly cracked, the cold fall and winter wind chilling him to his bones. Shivering, huddled in whatever sweater or jacket he was wearing. Isn’t that the way he thinks? Whenever a hot-blooded person meets a cold-blooded person; one of them… Continue reading Finding Time