Posted at 4:21 am , on March 21, 2019
She didn’t know how she was going to decide. The relationships had started due to her best friend’s push to get her on a dating website.
“C’mon, Becca. You’ve been divorced over a year. Let me create an OkCupid profile for you. That’s how I met Cliff and it turned out great for us,” Shelley begged, flashing her engagement ring once again.
Rebecca had cringed, tired of the constant attempts from her mother and friends to set her up. “Fine. Just tell the truth and don’t make me look stupid. And I swear, if I get catfished, I’ll kill you.”
Posted at 10:13 am , on March 17, 2019
My parents were both born in Belfast, Northern Ireland but St. Patrick’s day was never celebrated in our house. Why, you ask? Because we are proud Orange-Irish!
Growing up, my sister Jacqueline and I were NEVER allowed to wear green to school. We would try to sneak out the door and Daddy would turn us about saying, “No child of mine is wearing green on St. Patrick’s Day. Go and put on your orange.” No matter how we pleaded about getting pinched, Daddy was always true to his heritage. And I passed that on to my children and grandchildren.
And now, my annual explanation on why this 100% Irish, first generation American, wears Orange on St. Patrick’s Day.
Posted at 4:44 am , on March 7, 2019
The sour-faced woman raised her eyebrows after scanning my ID card. “I’m sorry, we can’t accept your vote.”
“What? Why not? I’ve voted at this polling place for the past 12 years. I’ve never missed an election. What’s wrong?”
“It seems that your citizenship is in question. We can’t just let anyone vote, you know.” She said this with a smirk and dismissive wave of her hand.
Posted at 2:52 am , on February 21, 2019
Amy stretched languidly, enjoying the morning quiet.
Then it struck her: It’s Wednesday! Why didn’t the alarm go off?!
She flew out of bed, glancing at the offensive clock: 8:13 am. Shit. No time for a shower or coffee and there was no way she’d make the express bus. Driving wasn’t an option either with the crowded highways at peak commute hour. She’d have to take the subway to get into the city. Ugh.
Posted at 2:50 am , on February 7, 2019
He considered himself immortal. He’d had plenty of broken bones and visits to the emergency room in his 33 years as a stuntman. In each of the three near-death experiences, he was drawn to a light but it always dimmed before he reached it. And then he woke to excruciating pain.
This was different. He found himself weightless. No sound, no sights, just white. Best of all, no pain. An unseen force slowly propelled him forward and after a time he came upon a huge golden gate.
A kind voice whispered in his head, “Enter ye who are pure of heart.”
Posted at 5:00 pm , on January 29, 2019
Today is my wee Nana’s 100th birthday! Agnes Parker McKittrick Hanna passed peacefully on October 25, 2017, just a few months shy of turning 99. I was so positive that she would live to be 100 that when her health began to take a sharp decline a few weeks before she died, I advocated for any and all medications and therapy to make her well. As her conservator, I had her transferred to a skilled nursing facility with a higher level of care options, stopping just short of life-resuscitation measures according to her wishes.
Truth be told, she didn’t have the best quality of life in her final year: dementia had taken a toll on her mind, she no longer was able to walk or dress herself, she was always tired and longing for her bed, and I had to constantly monitor the care at the assisted living facility.
Posted at 2:46 am , on January 24, 2019
“Fort Awsome,” the sign read. In all actuality, it wasn’t a “fort” and “awsome” was spelled wrong. Both were mortal sins in her book and she felt no remorse in ripping the shoddily made wooden plaque off the rickety beach shelter, placing it in the garbage bag she carried.
Virginia was a creature of habit. Every Sunday without fail she walked to the local coffee shop near the harbor and read the newspaper over a pot of black tea. Then she walked the two mile stretch of beach, picking up litter and washed-up trash with her gloved hands.
Posted at 7:59 am , on January 10, 2019
Charlie’s trained eyes peered through the binoculars from his vantage point at the top of the playground castle. He had a full view of the park and the turret shielded him from view of onlookers. He jotted notes in a little pad with a pencil, kept tucked in his suit pocket.
The man had approached the bench from the south, glancing furtively to his left and right several times before catching sight of the pretty young woman and quickening his pace when she looked up from her book with a smile.
Posted at 6:55 am , on December 27, 2018
We grew up sailing San Francisco Bay, indisputably the best sailing in the world and one we generally take for granted. On a typical day on the water we’ll motor up the estuary (which we fondly refer to as the “Alameda Riviera”) raising sails just beyond the Port of Oakland. We know all the stories associated with the local landmarks such as President Roosevelt’s refurbished USS Potomac and Jack London Square, the old Navy Base and the various Coast Guard stations.
Posted at 5:44 am , on December 13, 2018
Laura stepped off the bus and headed towards home. If you could call it that. An illegally converted garage wasn’t much of a home. She shared the single bathroom with three others and had to keep her food in a cooler so it wouldn’t be stolen from the community kitchen. It was all she could afford but was far better than the house she used to live in with her alcoholic husband.
“The life in front of you is greater than the life behind you.”