Moments

We miss so many simple moments. From “Islands Apart: A Year on the Edge of Civilization,” a simple moment, night falling in the campground on remote San Miguel Island…

That evening I ate lasagna from a bag and watched the world go dark. The gloaming came on as discreetly as dawn had arrived. Nature feels no need to beat her chest. Twilight deepened, but a spectral glow remained. The sea of yellow coreopsis flowers seemed to throw back the light of the departed sun, but the bushes still stood silently before the falling night, like a respectful crowd. As it grew darker, the world lost the sharp edges of reality. In the distance the peaks of Santa Rosa Island flattened; close at hand the coreopsis dissolved so that lollipop bushes heavy with lemon drops could indeed exist. In the darkness, lovers become who you want them to be. At the very last the blackest sky bent down and kissed the earth.

How often do we stand outside and watch darkness fall? Not often enough.

Danny Boy

“The mosquitoes were eating the crud out of me, but I would have sat there until I was nothing but bones.” Thanks to the Saturday Evening Post for publishing this short story…

A Trace of Dampness

“You can love something, and still be afraid of it.” Thank you to the Saturday Evening Post for publishing this story.

Bucket List

I was thinking about bucket lists and our one chance at this life. I wrote this short story and the Saturday Evening Post kindly published it. I hope you enjoy it -- and I hope it makes you think about your one chance here...