Sitting In the Aisle
You don’t talk to people on the Metro. You don’t talk to coworkers, you don’t talk to friends, and you especially don’t talk to strangers. Talking is the mark of the tourist.
Longing for Roots
So what do I have? I have my ancestors. I can’t visit them, anyway—most are long dead—so distance doesn’t matter. Still, though, this litany of names acts as a sort of symbolic rootedness.
A Muttering of Ducks
I fill a basket with crisp lettuce and Swiss chard. A raspberry finds its way into my mouth. I close my eyes, breathe deep, and finally feel my shoulders relax.
How We Learn
I realize this sounds rather impressive, a Hebrew “intensive” packed with flow charts, tense paradigms, parsing worksheets, and a severe lack of cognates.
Wait For It…
I sat back, dumbfounded, as these realizations came trickling in. I felt a little sheepish that it took so long for me to figure it out. God got a well-deserved slow clap.
Beach Bah Humbugs
But if I’m being honest, I kind of hate the beach. If I must go to the beach in the summer, I prefer going before 9 a.m. or after 7 p.m. You know, with the runners or the couples.
Somewhere in Middle America
We drove into the night, and every five to ten miles, we’d see a light in the distance. A farmhouse, no doubt. People live there, no doubt. Where do they get water? Groceries? Where do they go to school?
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.
Consider the Lilies
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.
The River Guide
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.
