May 24, 2020

A Sunday Story that is not mine alone, but fused together by the hearts of many.

I get into the car and immediately take off my mask. I tear if off really. I cannot remove it quickly or forcefully enough, like going from work pants to sweats after a long day, yanking an...

March 24, 2020

I find myself struggling a lot right now with something, and I suspect many of you are too. It's something I wonder how I have not mastered by now, as it appears in all of my mindfulness training and practice over the last many years, this one thing that comes up time...

March 8, 2020

This Sunday Story came from a dream. I dream sometimes in stories. This is one of them. 

I am getting the vacuum cleaner out when the doorbell rings. I think about not answering it. I’m busy. I’m just so busy.

I try to look out the front window without being seen and imm...

February 23, 2020

This morning I sent a text to about twenty people.  I asked them what they wanted. I asked them to tell me the first thing that came to mind and to know that it didn't even have to be the most important thing, but just whatever they thought of first. It could be funny...

February 9, 2020

I just read a really profound article.  It was at and called The American Life Is Killing You.  It was written by Erik Rittenberry. 

Reading it inspired this story, with some of the words taken right from his article.


Jasmine climb...

December 29, 2019

A Sunday Story, told to me by many.

“Did you see all those heads turn in your pearly white Christian conservative church tonight when I filed in behind you guys?” I ask my friend.

My friend of twenty-six years.  

My friend I grew up with and am now growing older with.  


December 23, 2019

A Sunday Story inspired by . . . I can't quite recall.

My phone pings and I look down, see Daron’s name on a text message.  

“What’s this shit-head want?” I laugh out loud.

I open the message.

It reads:

Carlin had the baby.  A girl.

I don’t breathe.  

The phone rings.  

I don’...

November 24, 2019

A Sunday Story that turned into a poem. 

I'm glad to know it's not just my story.

But also sorry to know that too.


I walk around and look at walls

try to decide if they are good enough

if I am. 

There are dents lines and cracks


November 10, 2019

Another Sunday Story that was painful to write, but true.

She takes my hand, quietly and gently pulls me along, not like my other mothers who always grabbed me so hard and yelled and accused then gave me away.

It does’t make any difference though.  No matter how kind she...

November 3, 2019

Another Sunday Story.  

I've read this about eight times and every time I've cried at the end.

Even though I have never once experienced anything even resembling this.

Or so I think.


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