They call it “breakup” when —
The earth begins to warm
And the trees shed their winter coats
Spreading their prickled fingers
And stretching like a cat to meet the sun
That has spent so many months in hibernation —
Spring is breaking up with winter.
Continue reading Breakup in Alaska
comes unannounced, unwanted.
It is the uninvited houseguest that arrives laden with its baggage
and leaves its messes on the floor,
in the kitchen,
in the hallway,
and smears ugly, wet stains on the pillows.
It is the unwashed clothes,
the dirty dishes,
the neglected chores,
and the suitcase with his t-shirts and cologne under the bed.
Continue reading Grief:
I waited to pick up my order at the Dairy Queen
down the street from where my grandparents once lived.