I look at my hands, and I see her hands. I’m not sure when this happened… Continue reading Our hands

Without my overdeveloped and misdirected skills of critique, my life would be easier… Continue reading I like to LIKE things

At the park I had to be hawk-eyed to catch them before they put the cigarette butt into their mouth, or crawled over a bit of broken glass. I had to cajole them to spit out the stones they had been oh so happily sucking away on, and I wondered what the gritty dust of this city tasted like. Continue reading Montgomery street park

On tiptoe, flexing to balance the bike and scratch the bite, the back of my leg formed the strange pattern of ridges, valleys, and hollows I’d seen on other people. On the kind of people who sprinted by in papery thin short shorts, who were obviously hard-core. Continue reading Runner’s calves

Motherhood is heavy lifting… Continue reading Heavy lifting

Why should the simple act of seeing, keeping your eyes on something long enough to really drink it in, deeply, bring so much pleasure? Continue reading Gimme colour

Over the years I’ve read dozens of books about purpose, habits, happiness, psychology, personal development, and popular philosophy. I really love that shit. This feels like a dirty little secret… Continue reading Dirty little self-help secret

The raft floated out front of Lisa’s house, made from blue plastic barrels and two-by-fours. When the tide was way out, it sat smack dab on a sand bar, its anchor line curled limply alongside. But most of the time it floated near or far from the water’s edge, and was a worthy goal for a swim… Continue reading The raft

An old-fashioned wash board hung on the wall in our dining room. She scolded us for playing with it, but we loved to rub our fingernails over its bumpy glass surface, to hear the clicking sound… Continue reading Canning cupboard

The soft curves of their small faces, long lashes brushing cheeks soft like freshest rose petal. Eyelids heavy, soulful without even waking, above lips relaxed and full. I can’t think of anything more beautiful in the world than my children, especially when they’re sleeping. Continue reading Portraits