He presses the side of his once-famous face hard against the warm velvet of the giant sequoia, breathing the scent of eons of growth and struggle, feeling the basin and range of the bark against the length of his out-flung arms, his widest stretch embracing only a tiny span of the epic circumference.
Teach me to be graceful in community
and beautiful in solitude
I just got back from a week at the cabin that I have gone to for the past darn near twenty years. It is my little piece of heaven, the reward that motivates me. When things get tough throughout the year, I remind myself that no matter what’s happening, whatever is stressing me out or pissing me off, I will be at Salmon Lake in the fall, and the thought keeps me going. It is the carrot that dangles in front of this particular donkey.
Home before dark. It was a clear, simple way to impose discipline. She could run the neighborhood.
I should have known that would be the last time I would see him; the eagle should have warned me.
On some level I knew it was going to happen from the first evening I met Sam.
He stands at the sink watching the sun set on the still water. “There will be stars in the lake tonight,” he says aloud to the emptiness.
I was only slightly nervous as I drove through the iron gates to his house.
The search had been going on for days. Every morning, just after dawn, the rangers gathered at headquarters to strategize the new day’s increasingly desperate efforts.
My name is Sally Bolger, and I am an addict.