It’s Saturday morning and I hear the sounds of Porto outside the hotel window. The city greets a new morning, while you burrow further under the duvet. I open the curtains further and look out. A bicycle and rider zip past at break-neck speed, half airborne over the cobbles, heading downhill toward the Douro river. I smile into the cool morning air.
I hear you roll over behind me. “You’re awake.” It sounds half accusation, half disbelief. Continue reading A Morning in Porto
Heavy rains falter; the promenade is awash with the runoff of deluge. Soggy bike tires hum, squeegee forward. Before us the sun explodes forth, cracking the sky. A last evening ride in la Cota d’Azur.
With the smell of rain and sea and the golden light reflecting above and below, there is closure. Moods rise and fall as melodies, delightful to dark, back again. Continue reading Crack the Sky
Sometimes I need to be more skeptical of adults. But I wasn’t when Mom texted me to pick up my sister Jasmijn.
‘Sure,’ I texted back. It was no big deal to ride back along the beach. I might see Willem, hanging out on the strand.
Something my sister said earlier didn’t click until I rounded the corner. Noa, her best friend, was staying at our place. I stopped, and we all exchanged a look. Continue reading Built for Three
“It’s good to have you along for a walkabout. . . . Tilly! Come girl.”
Let’s just be done, duffer.
“Remember when this was the quarry? A fine fix-up. . . . Tilly and I like it. Walk every day now.”
If you prefer bloody duck ponds. Continue reading Red Hill
Time moves erratically. At points so swift, we lose our way in the moment, a ephemeral blur. At others, it eddies and curls, babbling and rippling, casting echoes across a lifetime.
That night after the prom, son, you brought your date, Lucy, into our diner—your faces glowed. Together you created a sense of wonder, hope, happiness. Time bent back, stilled around an old, forgettable counter. Continue reading After the Prom
The world’s greatest detective knew change was inevitable. The joke was some didn’t understand.
Dark nights in Gotham sweltered. Global warming: the riddle for Batman was staying cool in leather and body armor. The Batmobile had no AC. Continue reading Batman Walks Into a Bar
The data didn’t fit her model. One look at the scatter plots on her laptop confirmed it.
“It’s the wrong protein.” She regretted speaking immediately. Continue reading I’ll Be Surfing
“Of course, he knew the world wasn’t flat. You don’t think Columbus was a moron, do you?”
“No. But our hist—”
“Our history teacher was a moron.”
His eyebrows shot up at that. Then he snickered. “I suppose he was.” Continue reading Mirador de Colom