Archive - Staff Blog
June 14th, 2016
I don’t know what possesses me
to ask the order of your family
love. Children, dog, your loving
husband? Save that picture
in its frame that says I love my dog.
His perked-up ears. His over-biting
jaw. Displayed to look at me
to keep my eyes from wandering,
beyond your mirror’s frame.
Where we small talk to each other,
each time I come in. You ask me
“Can we march in the Memorial Day parade again this year?”
Out of nowhere, one of my daughters popped this question during breakfast on a morning in mid-April. Memorial Day was over a month away. We were all the way across the country from Vermont, on sabbatical in Berkeley, California. And I hadn’t even finished my first cup of coffee of the day.
On the Lift
There’s not a better place
on earth than sitting here
with Bill McKibben
in County Tire’s waiting room.
Our cars hoisted on two
lifts. Two men behind
the glass, swapping out
our sets of pray this winter’s-
over-tires. Balancing the others
with weights found
on fishing lines, the balanced
As we prepare to leave Berkeley, California and return home to Vermont, here are some Berkeley stories from the past five months of our family’s sabbatical:
It’s Winter Again
Gratitude to you, young woman,
sliding your squeegee across the glass,
wiping its blade dry again.
Praise for the care you’re taking
applying yourself side to side.
Inside the circle, the track
of our field house. We both find
ourselves inside, April surprising
the fields. It’s snowing!
More than the redwings like,
It’s late afternoon, and I’m looking east through the big picture windows of my favorite café in Berkeley, California. I’m used to seeing the Green Mountains when I look east, but today I see the Berkeley Hills.
When friends and family from Vermont ask how we’re doing during our five-month sabbatical in Berkeley, California, I usually answer, “It’s been a good experience. But it’s not home.”
The funny thing is, it was home.
More stories published this issue