John Peter Illo never learned to swim in water, yet he swam at odds with the cultural flow, cross grain to the tide.
Categories
My Father’s Eulogy
Category: Family
The pictures on our bedroom wall each contain at least one memory—a captured spirit or ghost, if you will.
Categories
One Hundred and Twenty Hours
One hundred and twenty hours after my mother took her last breath, we gathered around a deep hole and covered her casket in roses.
Categories
Women in Black
The water shimmers baby blue beneath a blushing pink sky and it seems Bob and I are the only people on earth.
Categories
The Morning After
Sometimes you just have to reach for that box of shiny new colors.