The Milk
I feel so incredibly loved to have people who will miss me like this; I feel so incredibly remorseful to know that my move will hurt them. I don’t tell them that milk makes me sad.
Welcome to Eden
She has yet to shred her first roll of toilet paper, or textbook, or slipper.
Goodbye Lubbock
You’ve been a pleasant surprise.
Repenting in Dust and Ashes
I felt the grit on my teeth and imagined it in my lungs.
Bicycle Commuting (in Lubbock, Texas)
Cyclists know a city very differently than motorists do—as ants know a backyard very differently than squirrels do.
Invisible in an Intersection
I don’t know whether the driver even saw me after the fact, or if he ever registered the uncouth bird I flashed at him.
“Come for tea, my people” and Other Mistaken Christmas Lyrics
An invitation to tea with the Lord sounds, well, heavenly.
My Bible
I can’t explain, even to myself, why I’ve taken such pains to keep one previous owner’s “Streaky Bay Parish Announcer” bulletin from December ’65 in its proper page.
Rattlesnake in the Hallway
I can’t very well store it in my office as usual—five weeks into the semester, I have yet to receive a key.
Toll Road Home
There are several “worst parts” about driving across the country.
