Tag: prose
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A few years before I moved out of my mother’s house, hummingbirds started nesting in the roof. One, above the front door. Another in the backyard just above the kitchen window. I don’t have a single memory of what they looked like. I didn’t stop to really look. But my mother loved them, and she…
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Joy and movement
Today I did a cartwheel. A bad one, sure. I don’t think I’ve done a cartwheel since I was in grade school. They used to be my favorite, and at least in my head, I thought I was pretty good at them. I’ve been thinking a lot about joy and how to access it. I…
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We were water babies. Me, born in a bath tub. You two, near-drowned in my presence. We lived on the beach in bathing suits, our skin burnt and hair filled with sand. Dad draws faces in the shoreline, we run in the waves. We walk until the water is up to our chins. We jump…
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Nothing I plant lives. I have tried the indestructible: basil, mint, zucchini. “Be careful,” they tell me. “They will overrun your garden.” I kill them. I buy eggplant, tomato, chives, parsley. I buy aloe. They wilt in the sunlight, in the water-love, in the soil. I try again. I plant flowers. I raise beds. I…
colleen stinchcombe 