Road Trip 2026, Day Fifteen

acceptance settles

as we see the bright blue sky

(first time in two weeks)

An expensive hike

yet easy, green, glacial blue

make it worth millions

where can you see ice

floating from nearby glacier

as You eat your lunch?

Alaska wins us

though it can’t fully win her

(my pup will save me)

Road Trip 2026, Day Fourteen

she’s bought the ticket

leaving me brokenhearted

as more rain plagues us

no blue sky peak views

in this cold and dreary state

matching my sad mood

a bit of comfort

At Homer vacation home

(luxury send-off?)

i can’t change her mind

Yet can face the great alone

(i know how to drive)

Before You Can Blink

Just like us, twenty-one years back, they were walking their two dogs. The sun was ready to set, and their dogs would plop down on their laps later, ready for a rest. They were grinning in the golden light of the first day of fall, so young and beautiful.

She wore a black t-shirt that accentuated her bulging belly, he a ball cap and a matching shirt. No worries on a Saturday night. Just get the dogs home, put the baby-in-the-belly to bed, watch a flick, go to sleep.

But they had to gawk at me. Crane their necks for the scene I was making.

“Just ONE PIC!!”

I was begging; pleading.

No, it didn’t matter that they’d rushed through the fancy meal I’d spent hours preparing. That their friend was late and didn’t even have a bite. That the remnants of the Minnesota Wild Rice stew were spilled across the kitchen. That their friends were already in the park taking sunset pics.

That this is the last Homecoming.

And goddamn it, I needed JUST ONE PIC.

My baby girl, her friend since sixth grade, her friend since ninth grade, her other friends waiting at the park.

Just. One.

Because this is my last Homecoming.

I looked over at the expecting couple, turning the corner but still craning their necks as I squatted down, iPhone on pulse mode, trying to capture the snark, the impatience, the beauty.

“Oh… you’ll be me before you can blink,” I shouted, and they laughed and laughed and laughed as they walked down the block, not knowing how hard those coming months, years, moments would be. How they’d be begging for one picture, one moment with their baby, their child, their… young adult.

How quickly these sunset moments flash before our eyes.

Before you can blink, they are gone.

My Baby

interrupting me
while i’m teaching them English
is just what i need

Paint By Heart

only my youngest 
would agree to overalls
shared with her Mama
our shared high school life
is about to come to terms
with empty nest blues

Silver Anniversary Trip, Day Twenty-one

a calming cycle
on a rails-to-trails flat path:
way to start the day
more history learned 
at a medieval castle
built, burned, lost, rebuilt
my man boating us
back down the river, towards home
our heritage left

Silver Anniversary Trip, Day Twenty

riding up river
in a boat we drive ourselves
weathering windstorms
the river’s flooded
even for Irish standards
yet we navigate
monastery stop
seventh century ruins
Irish faith runs deep
a long drive’s reward:
stellar food, oldest pub
and Guinness to drink
sleeping on a boat
knowing Athlone’s lights alight
can be quite calming

Silver Anniversary Trip, Day Nineteen

a castle day trip
cycling on sketchy roads
yet worth the visit
hidden Irish gems:
four hundred years of earls
residing in stone
science surprises:
this telescope discovered
distant galaxies
and Bruce got to stand
in the largest redwood grove
outside the U.S.
night ends with laughter
in a 1500s pub
kindness in their blood

Silver Anniversary Trip, Day Eighteen

a rough travel day
and some rough river waters
aren’t too rough for us
the sunset calms us
the river settles for bed
and we can rest now

Silver Anniversary Trip, Day Seventeen

we’re the post office:
through wind, rain, sleet, clouds… weather
we weather the storm
just another day
in the life we’ve created
in sickness and health