Sometimes, on the days when the desert wind has wandered off and between in-coming airplanes, the furious silence fills your ears with the underwater roar.
Centuries later, the gulls still swoop and circle, screaming their sadness for the receded water.
On the high places, in the fields of prairie grass and sage, you can hear the waves crash in around you. Cicadas become the hiss of lake foam on the strand. And the wind carries an ancient salt tang.
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.