Six years sober. Strong word, sober. It implies not drunk. Drunk wasn’t my problem, not six years ago. Twenty-six years ago, drunk fit well. Six years ago, sometimes buzzed, tipsy. But usually, just relaxed... every night. Relaxed or buzzed every night. Until I quit. New Year’s Day seems like a good sobriety anniversary. Easy to … Continue reading Six Years “Sober”
Flash
Book Launch
In January, I posted The Routine, a flash piece illustrating my teenage struggle with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I initially wrote it a few years ago, but in January I gave it a heavy edit and submitted it to Through the Looking Glass: Reflecting on Madness and Chaos Within, an anthology of short nonfiction and poetry … Continue reading Book Launch
Routine
It’s a simple mechanism, the garage door lock. A spring-loaded bolt pushed through a slot in a metal rail—the rail the garage door rolls along as it’s opened or closed. It’s like a deadbolt on the front door. Binary, locked/unlocked, no gray area. A lever releases the lock. The bolt springs back, unlocking the door. … Continue reading Routine
A Bubble
A bubble on my ankle, slightly red, hard to see. Itchy. Soft and squishy. Immediately I think it's probably a tick. Engorged and floppy, ready to be picked. Or a worm, burrowed, safe and warm, or spider eggs buried against the bone. Thursday spent standing in tall grass and weeds, in brush and trees. Just … Continue reading A Bubble
Meditate
In the darkest nights of winter, Susan and I jog deserted streets. Channeling Jackson Pollock, our swinging hands gripping flashlights scribble vanishing art across the pavement. In the blackness, there’s nothing to see save two beams as they dance and bounce first behind and then before us. We don’t talk. The patterns in our foot-falls … Continue reading Meditate
Cutting the Strings
Sophie drove the rental car. I don’t think it’s allowed. I told the agent we have three drivers; he didn’t mention any restrictions. He never asked her age, so I never told. Still, I doubt they want a seventeen-year-old driving their car. She leaves at 5:30, Tuesdays and Thursdays. “Text us when you get there, … Continue reading Cutting the Strings
Slog
Slog. (verb) Work hard—toil, labor, grind, slave. Walk or move with difficulty or effort—trudge, tramp, traipse, trek, plod. Slow going. No, really, I mean slow! Two miles uphill. At first, I ran. A mile, maybe less. The hill steepens; I start my slog. My son Eli and I tried to bike this trail two weeks … Continue reading Slog
The Christmas Tree, 2019
Another year, another Christmas post. For a non-Christian, I spend a lot of time each December writing about Christmas. We picked up our tree today. For the fourth year in a row, we drove out through the dormant apple orchards to Showers’ Tree Farm. We used to go to Seven Springs Tree Farm, closer to … Continue reading The Christmas Tree, 2019
Six Word Story
Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, kaboom. Copyright © 2018 by Jeff Cann All rights reserved. No part of this story, in full or by segment, may be copied, reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including analog or digital print, photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior … Continue reading Six Word Story
(Flash) Natural order of things
Me, in his office: defensive, insecure. Him behind his desk: Disapproving, judgmental. “You’ll quit drinking,” he says. Not a suggestion, not a request. A declaration. An intervention. “I’m only here for my meds, my antidepressants.” Medication management, no prescription without a discussion. Power of suggestion? Voodoo? A good read of character? Yes, he was right. … Continue reading (Flash) Natural order of things
Buzz
The four of us huddle in the dorm room, lights low, a single candle burns on the coffee table. The candle sits in a mountain of wax covering what was simply a Budweiser bottle just a few hours ago. Each of us digs at the candle, at the wax-mound, with glowing hot paperclips. Heat the … Continue reading Buzz
The Other Stuff 