The unbeautiful. They’re among us.
Read the story here.
Of course, if you’d like a poem, click here.
And there are more stories here.
Pizza Port, Morro Bay, California It was quiet until it wasn’t. But waiting for pizza is hard on kids. I wasn’t surprised when the little girl started to cry. Her brothers drank their Cokes. Mom looked at Dad. It’s your turn, her eyes said, twinkling. She watched the game on the television. Dad picked up the crying girl, following the game until she sat on his leg and leaned in: “I miss Lolly” before resting on his flanneled chest. It looked soft. His hand covered her back. He whispered: “I miss her too.” “Can I get a new one?” He was all hers. “We’ll see.” Pizza came. No grace but grace. Mom wiping her boys’ mouths, Dad pointing out uniform colors on the TV, on his forearm one tattoo, his smile large, kids fed, old truck outside, no room but room, family, peace.
And then some stories here.
Missing pencils and half-used cakes of board wax margaritas mid-afternoon on an old blue-painted porch the dog is sick but the vet says he’ll be okay “Do you ever miss Los Angeles?” Yeah, some friends, memories trouble is held back by the rocks protecting the bay.