Susan’s mom died last week. It came out of nowhere. Jeanne was well, grocery shopping at Giant with Susan’s father. Her energy dragged. She sat on a wooden bench by the pharmacy while Al finished gathering the groceries. It’s been a rough year for her. Bouts of confusion led doctors to suspect seizure activity. She … Continue reading Loss
Hospital
Traumatized?
C.J. poked me today. Mr Cann, just checking in to see if you’re fine? Feel I’m going to worry that something random and terrible has happened any time there isn’t a blog post often enough! No kidding. She’s not the only one. Last Wednesday, I went to a spin class at the Y. As I … Continue reading Traumatized?
Admitted
I drove into one of those industrial parks that sit out beyond the suburbs. Buildings lined the street in various stages of construction, off-white concrete, nondescript. Gravel parking lots surrounded by ten-inch-high curbs still awaited macadam and white lines. Yellow construction vehicles, all types—backhoes, dump trucks, bull dozers, steam rollers—scattered throughout the complex. Wide, desolate … Continue reading Admitted
Resilience
Susan and Sophie drove off to pick up carryout. Look at us gamely gutting through our vacation. Resilience. I read a blog post comparing it to a coat hanger. When a coat hanger gets bent out of shape, you can bend it back, Heck, you can untwist it, fish your keys out of a locked … Continue reading Resilience
Postcard from Maine
~ Not Eli ~ Eli crashed hard. I assume. I didn’t see it, he speeded ahead when the terrain got dicey. Or really, I slowed down and he didn’t. I rounded a bend and saw him flat on his back in the middle of the path, his bike in the brush. I could tell he … Continue reading Postcard from Maine
Different Lives
This short story originally appeared in the Bangalore Review. Chris My alarm shrieks. It’s 6:57. Out of bed and into yesterday’s clothes. Dizzy from alcohol and insufficient sleep, I step into the morning under-dressed. My coat lies on the couch, the December freeze ignored in my haste. I race the clock to move my car. … Continue reading Different Lives
The Other Stuff 