Splinter Self –The Long Way Home

I slept well last night. It was a hard sleep, as is evidenced by the deep, red, swollen, imprints of pillow seam across my face. Even as I drink my second cup of coffee I can still see the red stripe. I started writing Splinter Self before I’d even finished Predator’s Game. The plan had…

Because Once You Can Envision Your Own Freedom…

It was an ideal day, that day. The temperature hovered around the mid seventies throughout with a mild breeze approaching from the southwest. It had stormed the night before, so the oft rutted dirt roads approaching the then-capitol splashed as horses and carriages moved into the city for the final debate. Of those who had…

Finding The Hours In The Seconds

When your mind is filled with information, worry, and emotion, it’s easy to get to the end of the day and feel the time just evaporated behind you. As you get older you begin to feel the same way about weeks, months and years. I remember as if it were yesterday, the time I stood…

The Helium In My Head

So it will be 20 days tomorrow. When I woke up on the morning of May 6th, I couldn’t stand, my chest was tight, my head was spinning and nausea rolled over me, wave after wave. The Urgent Care center thought it might be a stroke so I spent the night in the hospital. After…

Brain Gravy And The Mossy Turtle

I thought it was a stroke. Hell, even the ER doc thought it might be a stroke, thus checking me into progressive care overnight. I was the youngest person on the floor other than the nurses and doctors–I was definitely the youngest patient. With my eyes unable to fix on anything for more than a…

Zippo my Zippo

Cold against my thigh, I feel you in my pocket reminding me that I want to smoke. Your weight is comforting to me. Unlike your plastic imitators, you have substance, bulk, a heaviness that hints at your great worth. Ahhhh, my Zippo. My first was stamped with the Army Engineer logo. That made Zippo a life icon,…

The Anniversary—Hearts Too Full

Every day is the anniversary of something. Not all of them have a pointed, clear memory pushing to the surface, reminding you why it’s an anniversary. But each year you age, the calendar becomes more and more a mine field of special anniversarys. December 6th is a special one for me…it’s the anniversary of the…

When to breathe

Like hot dusty air, it burned with each breath. It didn’t matter that the air was clean and cool…my scene had me choking, my eyes watering. When to breathe? Writing my story (or rather, my story shoving me through a tube, squeezing me out at the other end with frantic key strokes) consumes me in…