by Deb Farris | Oct 19, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
I think the pumpkins are going to make it this year. There must be enough in the neighborhood to keep the squirrels eating courses, traveling from house to house like we’ve always wanted to do ourselves: first course at Winnie’s, second at Connelly’s , third at...
by Deb Farris | Jul 10, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Pets
Our impulse “Ca-Ching”, love at first site, there’s no turning back now, pet store purchase 15 years ago, is now snoozing away his Sunday afternoon on the couch—as long as I stay beside him. If I move, he follows. He had a couple belly flops today and seems a...
by Deb Farris | Jul 4, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
There is a place we used to go every summer, where wind blows off the lake, cooling sun-parched skin from day’s labor, where deer nibble on grass outside your window, where children with toughened feet run gleefully across a stoney beach, anxious for fireworks. There...
by Deb Farris | Jun 23, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
I place my notebook down on the table, then pick it up again, to lay it back down. I walk away and walk back, passing it by only to return. The words inside are scrambled, my mind spins a yolk–an embryo of thoughts all stuck together. Then it finally occurs to...
by Deb Farris | Feb 18, 2018 | Memoir, Musings
I was looking in your laundry room for the snowflake pillowcase Arthur asked me to bring to you at the hospital today. Instead I found the shirt you wore the last time you picked me up at the airport and crumbled. I went for a seat outside. After a bit, a buzzing...
by Deb Farris | Nov 28, 2016 | Memoir, Musings
Right. It’s Sunday night—the time I used to sit down to write and share the latest incident with Dad for my blog Sundays with Dad. I mean, three years of that created a bit of a ritual. Now, even though Dad’s not around anymore, it doesn’t mean a ritual disappears. In...