Being Still

My family and I spent a lot of beautiful, sunny days (and some cold, cloudy days) sitting at Beavertail in Jamestown, Rhode Island, watching the water crash against the rocks. We have a photo of my daughter and son together on a blanket when they were little, the ocean in the background. My son is taking a bite of an Oreo. My daughter is wearing a blue dress and a matching sun hat my mother had given her.

My painting of the water crashing into the rocks at Beavertail brings me back to those days. Back when we were living in New England, and spent a lot of time with our kids and my parents.

We were together often. My father was still alive.

I wish I appreciated it as much then as I do now, looking back. I’m willing to guess there was a point I looked at my watch and decided it was time to go. And I’m not sure there was anywhere else we needed to be.

The sun probably hadn’t even set.

The Regular

Richard took off the apron tied at his waist and tossed it in the bin with the other dirty aprons and cloths. It had been a busy night for a Tuesday. Good to see the register ringing. Luckily, most of the regulars from around town still showed up, even though

Before It Gets Too Dark

Edgar put on the TV and turned the UHF dial, tuning it to channel 38. It didn’t come in very well, as was the case with most of the channels lately. It’d been like that for a while, and Edgar kept meaning to go up on the roof

Want

When I wrote “Want” as a poem, it was seven stanzas long, but it wasn’t very good. What I did have in my head, however, was the exact painting I wanted to paint to go with it, even if the poem was a bit raw and unfinished. So to

Before the Rain

Leonard pulled the nozzle from the gas tank, gave it a little shake, and placed it back on the pump. He looked through the station wagon’s rear window and couldn’t believe all the bags Claire had packed. How long did she think they were going for? He went

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The Regular

Before It Gets Too Dark

Want

Before the Rain