The essay that got me into college was about how I used to wake my siblings up with ukulele songs, but it was really about life with Stewart. I’ve written thousands of words about my brother. He’s an easy subject: Continue reading

The blood moon sat. “Sitting” really is the best way to describe it. “Hung”, “draped”, and “peered” all imply a sort of grace that wasn’t there. It looked like a fist of clay plopped twenty stories off the ground. We had gotten up at three AM to watch it from the cemetery a few blocks away during October of 2014, when the valley was particularly black. Continue reading

My little sister finished high school and I did not plan on attending the graduation. Our massive Charlotte school holds its dreary ceremonies in the Hornets stadium, and I was not about to take off work to drive four hours and stare at a wall of kelly green mortarboards. But when she personally requested that I be there, I gave in. Continue reading

Saturday

“The red one,” my friend said. I removed the red flower from the pack of synthetic leis and clipped it to the back of Orion’s collar. He circled a few times in an effort to see what it was, then settled on the couch. Summerfest was happening outside our door, and the apartment had planned a front yard party. Continue reading