For Better, For Worse
On our wedding night, Clarissa and I got a call from our roommates in North Carolina saying that our house had been robbed. Someone had thrown a brick through the kitchen window.
On our wedding night, Clarissa and I got a call from our roommates in North Carolina saying that our house had been robbed. Someone had thrown a brick through the kitchen window.
You think you are the glory of creation, but you are still within creation. For dust you are and all that. You think, I should see the redwoods soon. I should go to Tuvalu before it’s underwater.
Nick sat smoking, looking out over the country. He did not need to get his map out. He knew where he was from the position of the river.
Harvests were tallied. And fruit farmers hauled in a bumper crop of blueberries, apples, and peaches—the pent-up energies of their formerly ravaged orchards.
Standing at the altar, holding hands, we repeated the ancient formula, and then we knelt, we opened our mouths to receive the host and took the chalice to our lips.
Whether you agree with Judge Friedman’s decision or not, it must be stated that the tides are turning on the fight for marriage equality.
And what greater grocery store is there in this universe, I ask you? Its hours of operation: endless. Its selection of salty snacks: both wide and economical.
We were servers, carrying trays of bruschetta between the tables and out onto the veranda where the sun was bright on the Lake and the bare shoulders of the bridesmaids. I was 17.
The first of Adalbert Waffling’s Fundamental Laws of Magic: “Tamper with the deepest mysteries—the source of life, the essence of self—only if prepared for consequences of the most extreme and dangerous kind.”