“Fresh Pots!”

The summons echoes through the house at 9 a.m. Whoever rises from their slumber first is tasked with brewing the pot of coffee for the rest of the house, most often accompanied with the famous borrowed phrase. The rest of the house is resurrected from their beds, hungover and curmudgeonly. The hot, earthy cups of…

Thank You, Chuck; In Memoriam of a Legend

Since my earliest memories, music has been the single constant in my life. While it may be difficult to believe, I still remember moving into my first home; a charming duplex on an extraordinarily quaint street in Merrimac, Massachusetts. Mind you, I moved into that house when I was thirteen months old. But, to this…

On Roaches

I found a medium-small one nestled into a small crevice in my can opener, elated as it scampered out into a perfectly good can of Bumble Bee tuna. My lunch became his. I found a medium-sized one — maybe the size of my thumbnail, its exoskeleton miniature but sinister — on my toothbrush, straddling the…

A Drive to Manchester by the Sea

Earlier I proclaimed my monumental love of Sundays, so in some ways this is a continuation of that post. I went and detailed the GTI today, getting her back to that show room quality appearance, and then proceeded to do what any other car enthusiast does after giving their car a good wash. I went…

Easy Like Sunday Mornin’

Cliche?! Quite possibly, but that’s what I do!  Im even riding the coattails of a fellow Aardvarkian writing this post! I come out swinging and don’t look back babes! Its been a bit since I’ve dove into the Aardvark, but James had a great explanation about how we are transforming, maturing, finding our voice. I think…

Let’s Write Now What We Vowed Not To

When the silver sky of an overcast flurry shows soft through the window, casting fuzzy dull shadows across the furniture and floor, and fat snowflakes career slantwise downward, riding a southern breeze to the slush of the sidewalk, a certain ineluctable sentimentality congregates in the warmth of one’s chest. The heat held in fingers and…

The Trappings of Permanence

Somewhere between arrival and departure, there is time spent. And it is in time spent where the great variance of life occurs, the vacillations. We love a place then loathe it, we step out of ourselves and take things in, then we ebb back into ourselves and shut things out. This period is defined as…

Kinship, Borders, Alone

Monday morning in Canaan, New Hampshire. January 16, 2017. About five o’clock. Pretty dark out, still. I slept hard and fast–the efficient shuteye that comes after a bender. I was awake because the drunk of the day before had worn off, so morning’s pangs of depression were starting to rise up like sewage in a…

On Woods, Raptors and Youth

In my youth, I spent considerable time in the woods. I was lucky to walk out my back door, across the deck, down the splintered steps and have a woodland trail sprawl out at my feet. I would weave through thick oaks and lean on white birch, watching the southern face of my house grow…

Pip & Provis

Just about a year ago to the day, I created a Spotify playlist called Pip & Provis. In my vanity, I must write about it. Just kidding, of course, it’s not vanity that particularly motivates me to write about the playlist but rather that I consider it to be something important in my life. Like…

When My World Was Forever Changed

I was in fifth grade when my world was forever changed. My father told my brother and I, “Mommy and Daddy are going to get a divorce.” I’ll never forget the day. Ben and I cried so hard. It was awful. The explanation was even more hard to hear. “Mom and dad don’t love each…