I moved out of my parents’ house in January of 2008. That Christmas, all I wanted - aside from books, of course - was a set of windchimes to hang on my new front porch.
Mom and Dad took their time, searching for the perfect windchimes. They’re not shrill or discordant. Each of the six pipes blends harmoniously with the rest — a beautiful, mellow melody that swells slowly as the wind finds its way around the porch column.
It’s been three years since I’ve had a place to hang them. We’ve had nice apartments that just didn’t offer a place for windchimes. They were packed into a crate with cookbooks and forgotten. But my windchimes have come home, now that we have.
I told the neighbor to let me know if they were too loud - I’d take them down. ‘No!’ he said. ‘We love them. They make us want to sit on our front porch more.’
I always felt like fathers day was just a day for people with fathers in their lives.
Things I Learned from my First Half Marathon
Came into my first coupe glass today. Didn't so much inherit it as family circumstances made it available. I decided to celebrate with The Last Word, both boozy and sophisticated.
We cancelled cable three days ago.
Sometimes there's nothing you can do.
The earth has a memory.