The Days That Don't Belong to Either
December twenty-ninth. These three days have always felt like a corridor, not Christmas anymore, not the new year yet, just the hallway between them. I've been in this kitchen sin…
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16 entries tagged #windowsill.
He Had No Agenda
January fourteenth. A pigeon landed on my windowsill this morning and did not leave for eleven minutes. I know it was eleven because I was watching the clock on the stove, not bec…
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Three Sentences That Are Still Waiting
November ninth. There are three sentences in my draft folder that have been there since late October. I wrote them on a Sunday morning after I noticed that the light on the window…
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What the Window Is Actually For
August twenty-fourth. The mug was cold by the time I noticed I'd stopped drinking it. That's what gave it away. I've been writing around this for most of the summer, the forty min…
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The Forty Minutes Before
August thirteenth. I have been calling it nothing for about six weeks now. The time before I leave for Tuesday sessions, before Wednesday yoga, before any of it starts, I kept wri…
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Seen in the Background
December fourteenth. The print sale at the framing shop ended weeks ago. I know this because Simone's Halloween photograph, the one she texted me, orange light, paper skeleton in…
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Slightly Apart
September seventeenth. I didn't put it there on purpose. That's the thing I keep coming back to. The cord was finished, I had tied it off, and I needed to set it down, and I put i…
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What It Weighs
January eighteenth. I didn't plan to open the box this morning. I'd been walking past it since December, on the counter, then on the chair by the door, then on the kitchen table,…
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The Photograph Stays
August twenty-eighth. The sidewalk-sale weekend at the framing shop was last weekend. I know because I had written it down, not in a calendar exactly, more the way you write somet…
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The First Morning of the Year
January first. The apartment is very quiet in a way it only is when the rest of the city is either asleep or nursing something. I made coffee before I was fully awake, and then I…
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Resting or Finished
December tenth. The question I keep not asking myself is: is it done, or is it just quiet? The windowsill has had the same five things on it since April 2016. The collapsed bowl.…
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The Almost-Drawing
November twenty-second. I picked up the sketchbook. That's the whole sentence. I picked it up, I carried it to the kitchen table, I opened it to the page after the third drawing,…
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The Week That Doesn't Count
December twenty-seventh. This is the week that doesn't count. The Christmas things are still out but they've lost their charge. The new year hasn't started. Work is skeleton-crew…
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Pending the Kiln
June fourth. The instructor said we'd know in about two weeks. That's the window, two weeks from the last class, give or take, depending on the firing schedule. My bowl is in ther…
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Gerald Gets a Neighbor
May twenty-sixth. The succulent was three dollars and ninety-nine cents at the hardware store on the corner, which also sells birdseed and replacement drawer pulls and, apparently…
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Forty Minutes with a Pigeon
There was a pigeon on my windowsill this morning and I want to be clear that I did nothing, nothing, for the better part of an hour because of him. He showed up around eight-fifte…
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