My dad rented out part of a resort. Loot bags, each waiting to be taken home by a party guest, stand neatly arranged in rows, like soldiers on a training field.
All tagged dad
My dad rented out part of a resort. Loot bags, each waiting to be taken home by a party guest, stand neatly arranged in rows, like soldiers on a training field.
While surfing the web I came across a painting titled Island of Shells. It reminded me of Barbados, my birth island.
It is an unsaved number but I answer, leaning back as the preliminary recording begins.
I was drowning. Or so I thought. My head kept bobbing under and I was taking in gulps of lake water again and again.
I saw him sitting in the front pew of All Saints Church. I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
Climbing trees, skinning knees, falling off bikes, go-carting down hills, building things, breaking things, getting lost in the woods, and floating down rapids—everything was fair game until that time my brother and I tried a physics experiment.
"Hurry up in the shower!" I yell, as my son's bathing quickly drains all the hot water from the tank. This was never a problem in the school years, when there was a natural order to things and school started early in the morning.