emilyenger

Losing Sleep

A few weeks ago, I woke from a fog, as dramatic as a Hollywood scene – comatose patient thrust into sitting position as she gasps a desperate lungful of air. Until that moment, I hadn’t fully acknowledged how asleep I…

Prudence

Writers are usually emotional people. They’re a type of artist, so like all creative people, they live with full imaginations and deep personal investment. I tell everyone that I’m the most practical artist I’ve ever met. I don’t get worked up about most…

Strawberries

If I were a better writer, this would have been written by now. I wouldn’t look at the calendar, realize a month has nearly gone by, and be content writing old news. I value stories enough to want to share…

Opie

My husband doesn’t like children. It’s not that he hates them. He’s just one of those guys who is more comfortable with adult conversation. As he’ll readily confess, “I didn’t like being around kids when I was a kid. And I…

Chapter 3

When John and I moved to New York, I wrote a blog post called Chapter 2. Now that we’ve circled back to Minnesota, I figured it would only be right to follow up with another reflection and record of anticipation…

My Priest

My husband has a very unique gift: people talk to him. I don’t just mean they converse; I mean they open right up and confess to murder! You have no secrets once you shake hands with John. Somehow, despite your best reservations,…

Sap

Everyone does it. Okay — I hope everyone does it. You’re holding something that’s hot or dripping or sticky, etc. Your destination is far away so, being a member of the intelligent, adaptable human species, you quickly make a detour.…

Hiding

 It’s a crisp late afternoon and I just put on a pot of tea. I’m watching the first snowfall of the season as the day stretches into dark evening. I’m in a reminiscing mood. Last week, I posted something on…