“Chillermania,” I whispered to myself with reverence. “The World Headquarters.” My heart leapt with excitement.
This is where we are. The reduction of a decades-long debate with life-changing ramifications to a billboard. Or a bumper sticker. Or a sound bite.
Gollums in caves. Rolled down Smartwools. Disposable camera flash. #SB2k13.
Like many a literary grouch before him, Ove’s icy winter of life thaws before his final curtain.
Comfort is a much needed salve, and respite for the parched and thirsty, but it’s good to remember we can also drown.
“Something happened when the White House got demystified. The impression was left that anybody could do it.”
Christmas is always the musk of dusty angel robes and glow of Christmas tree lights on the hardwood floor. Easter, however, is rarely the same twice.
I didn’t cry at this graduation, like I did all those years ago on the stage of my elementary school, but I would cry later.
I’ve found that the mundanities of teaching quickly and quietly bleed a name of its import.
As readers might recall from Season 1 and Season 2, I’d allowed podcasts to become a steady burble of background noise flowing through my waking, non-working hours.