Last week, I watched a potted lily jump from a store shelf and onto the concrete floor below in hopes of discouraging my wife from putting the plant in the back of the car.
My mother, when faced with a difficult situation or going through a trying time, would always step back and put things in perspective with a few simple words.
Later this week we will cross into not only a new year but a new decade.
Did you ever think of how little each of us would have if we only had what we needed?
Recently a friend described her biggest challenge of decorating their Christmas tree.
As if the karma gods of the world would look down poorly on me, I never throw a book into the trash.
Last week, I found myself standing in a room filled mostly with strangers. Considering the event was a wake service for a friend, you would say he built a remarkable off-the-balance-sheet inventory of deep and powerful love. To him, touching lives was his currency — and my late friend built …
Quietly, the older man approaches. His feet move slowly across the sand to our table near the water’s edge of a tiny island off the coast of Central America.
As of late, I have an unsettling feeling, as if an ominous shadow is peering over my shoulder. From the always-listening speaker in the living room, to a wrist device recording the hours I slept the night before, I’m finding myself increasingly uneasy.
Living an unfiltered life is becoming increasingly rare — and we are as much at fault as technology.
I’m standing in front of our home, speaking with a friend. His large dog nudges gently against my hand for attention. She’s beautiful and knows it.
I am sitting in a deep-dish pizza shop in downtown Chicago. The smell of the 3-inch-deep pies competes with the excited voices of customers for owning the room.
Teal waters playfully wink at a cloudless sky behind the young man. He’s standing at the rear of a small white fishing boat, and his arms spread like the frigates gliding in ocean breezes above our heads. His dark hair is shaved close on the sides with a dozen long, blonde-tipped woven ends …
My friend and I are talking about marriage, both of us in long-term relationships.
Recently, I found myself down a rabbit hole of 1980s music videos. Most bands featured I remembered as clearly as yesterday, complete with the outrageous fashions the world may rightly never let see the light of day again. And dang, was that ever a fun way to burn a half hour.
Last week, I found myself far from my comfort zone, a place where a lifetime of survival skills were rendered useless.
“You know, while I appreciate your words, people saying they are sending prayers is pretty much a throwaway line these days.”
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