Reflections

I visited my father’s childhood home for the last time in the seventh grade. It is located in Fair Haven, a small Jewish town in northern New Jersey. Tyson Drive is a decently short road, leading to a dead end. The house sits at the end of the road in a circular crevice, surrounded by … Continue reading 72 Tyson Drive

I carried Piglet from apartment to house to house, frayed and graying pink and decidedly female. She lives in the two homes on my back, one with yellow walls and one with newly painted bright middle-school blue. Now my walls are blue-gray clean, and Piglet sits at the top of a mountain of stuffed animals … Continue reading The Things We Carry

We were walking down to the dock in the dark, the moon tucked in to sleep by a layer of heavy clouds. A stiff breeze pushed the ocean up against the rocks. The floorboards of the dock were uneven beneath my feet, and I almost tripped as I felt my way slowly down to the … Continue reading Untitled

A million marbles fall from the rumbling sky. They roll down the rough cement streets of New York City like gum-balls traveling down a spiral chute. Marbles roll like candlepin balls, hitting the grooves and the ridges of the chalky ground and falling into the gutters that line the sidewalk edges like underground prisons. They … Continue reading A Million Marbles

Before my parents finally succumbed after years and years of my constant poking and wheedling for a cat, we had been the caretakers of several pet fish. They were always goldfish, some being common goldfish and some being fancy goldfish, because while tropical fish are very lovely and much easier to care for, they’ve never … Continue reading Bones in the Garden