Stories

I sat on the cooler next to him and turned my can’s tab to the right, so I’d know it was mine.

I drank my first beer with my other hand up, to order the second. What if I finished that first beer and the second wasn’t there?

His body blocks the light, his face just a shadow, but I can see. I see he is me.

He falls – smack on his back – and his feet wriggle in the air. The Jack of Hearts is on his back, hands buried in his coat pockets, squirming like a turtle.

But Jack didn’t look out the window much, I don’t think. He didn’t know why he was there and didn’t realize he wasn’t going home. And that’s where Jack died, at age 90.

Grace had a certificate for each pet in her care. She had a lot of pandas. And Pop had printed out each of the certificates.

And that is true. Cali has been to the beach many times. She chases seagulls and barks and the wind lifts her floppy ears and she eats the bait out of the fishermen’s buckets.

He said, “Our relationship is changing because we are changing.” That’s pretty wise for a 15-year-old.

When do punctuation marks stay inside the quote marks? Always.

He was happy to see me. I brought the New York papers. A moment later, he’s happy to ignore me and stops talking. 

I would talk at Pop while the message chirred. That machine was right next to his couch in front of his TV. I knew he was sitting there, 85 years old, under his New York Football Giants blanket.

My wife believes driving in another country takes two people. It. Does. Not.

I’m still incredibly sad – not for Dad, but for me. Pop couldn’t get better and now he’s with Mom again. I’ll get better, but taking a long time. How? 

You’d think he was blessed. That he was lucky.

If only you had (free) tools to ensure your writing tone and grammar create a conversation, not a broadcast.

Mom watched the Mets and cursed while she ironed. She taught me how to bowl and, when I was reading, turned the light on over my head.

She looked at Dad and Dad put on his sunglasses, his foot on her handlebars, and leaned down at her.

It sounds noble, lucky, to be at someone’s side as they pass…on. To gift them companionship with their next step.

Ideas start – and grow – with me. So I say, call me a digital ideaist. Because, if I don’t do it, somebody else will.

Dad was dying and I was ready. I was ready to close his eyes. It was my turn to get this right.