Sometimes the scariest girls are the nicest, and the real scary ones just need to be laughed at.

Crime and Punishment

My mom would drop me off at her house. Each memory I have of that place is contained in the white border of a Polaroid, the colors fading and distant. For a young, melancholic girl, it was loathsome- the smell, the wood-paneled walls. There was a rickety metal swing set in the backyard, the kind with rust that would scrape the delicate skin of every child who played on it.

I didn't like her. The only tolerable thing she owned was a chest full of objects meant for children. It didn't occur to me until later that she kept them for my visits. At the time, all I thought was how unfortunate it was that the chest was under her watchful eye and not in my own room.

Over time, I may have forgotten these memories, but the first of each sin is significant. From her chest of toys is where I first took what did not belong to me- a small book with a golden spine, the size of my pocket. I think she was aware of my crime, but she never told me. She knew my guilt was punishment enough, and that I was the type of girl who would carry it for a long time.

A few years ago, I asked my mother where Mrs. Riess was. I had decided to visit her and silently act out my penance.

"She died a few years ago. She took great care of you when you were a little girl."

apple slices

Sometimes I find myself flipping through tv channels, allowing different places and people to parade before me inside that glass and plastic box. I don't want to feel like I'm missing anything. I'm glad I didn't miss seeing this one lady. She was small and elderly, with long gray hair. She lived in the mountains and wore a pink night gown. I still see her climbing a ladder up to the roof of her house holding a pan of freshly cut apples with her bony fingers. She lays the apples out on her tin roof to let them dry in the hot sun.

"i'm telling you a lot...a lot, a lot."

i think you should always be yourself. unless you're obnoxious.

Photo by Adam Brimer

you can't reason with a baby

"goodnight, i love you, and i'll see you in the morning."