Skip to main content


Something new and extremely rough for today's post.  I used a writing prompt ("write about a day moon") to get me going, the whole point being to get something - anything really - on the page. 


The moon refused to set.  It hung there in the sky like some bulbous seed, full of life and waiting for just the right weather to sprout.  Tam watched it doubtfully, warily, waiting for some other sign to come along and wipe away the heavy meaning of a day moon.  But everything was quiet.  Still.  Poised.  Even the river, some hundred leagues away, seemed to rush quietly in its banks.  It avoided the rocks and normal pitfalls of its course, thrumming instead of crashing against the shore. 

They saw hardly any game and so had to wait until late for lunch, finally settling down to eat when the sun was already halfway to setting.  Tam’s stomach rumbled uncomfortably, a protest of nerves and a long day walking with only hard Satyr rolls from last night’s leftovers.  When Vardos finally speared a rabbit, it was only a scrawny, half-lame juvenile with a patch of gray fur missing over its eye.  Sibelius shuddered away and rolled his eyes in distaste, refusing to even sample the stringy meat that mostly dripped off into the fire.  Vardos sucked on a bone and offered the meatiest portion to Tamyrn, but she had a hard time eating it after Sibelius’ refusal. 

By the time night began to drop its dusky cloak over the trees, the moon shone luminous and bright as any winter sun.  Sibelius eyed it nervously and decided to take first watch after camp was set.  Tamyrn lay next to the fire, fitful and unable to sleep despite a heavy weariness that seemed to radiate through her bones.  Every rock seemed to push its way through her thin bedroll.

After a while, she sat up to watch Vardos whittle while he sat near the blue flames of the fire.  The moon hung over his shoulder, only slivers of bright silver threading through the trees.

“How much farther to the pass?” Tamyrn asked, more to break the uneasy silence than in hopes of any real answer.

Vardos shrugged and let his gaze drift lazily around the perimeter of the camp before answering.

“Maybe two days, three, if all goes right.  The day moon has us spooked and we moved slowly today.  We should make up some time tomorrow.”

“My father used to say that a day moon bodes ill news,” she said, poking at the coals with a long, slim twig.

“A common saying.  I’m not sure I’ve ever had any proof to back it up.”  Vardos smiled at her through the shadows and tossed his whittled stick into the flames.

“What were you making?”

“Nothing, just passing time until Sib comes back.”

“Do you suppose…” She let her words trail away into the dark.


“Nothing, it’s not  – “

But the crashing sound of someone or something running through the undergrowth, very fast, cut her off short.  Vardos stood, drawing his sword and stepping over in front of Tam. 
Then three things happened all at once: Sib burst free of the undergrowth, the cloud moved in front of the moon, and Tamyrn’s amulet began to burn the skin at her neck.


Popular posts from this blog

Dear Carly,

I assume that one day you will come to me wanting to know who you are, where you came from, where your other family is and why they gave you to us.  I offer you little bits of information already, but certainly not crumbs enough to satisfy the appetite.  Perhaps it won't matter to you.  I am assuming a lot, already, about how adoption will impact your life.

People often wonder why adoptive parents are hurt when their children seek out biological roots.  I have the answer, and it's very simple.  Adoption - at its core - makes us question the legality, authority, voracity, and validity of parenthood.  For most adoptive parents, first you must come to terms with an issue that strikes at the foundations of mortality: fertility.  From birth, most of us are driven to form families.  First we are nestlings, nurtured and weened and eventually taught to fly.  Then we are nest-builders, filling our lives with the stuff necessary to drive life forward.  Knowledge, safety, money, a sturdy …

Fragmented re-introduction

I dreamed a dream once of what this would be like.  Of life.  Of patterns and songs and ticking off boxes to find my way. 

Trouble was, I keep looking at the wrong list.

This year's list:

- Turn 40 (check)
- Move again (check)
- Send the boy on a mission (check)
- Finish admin license
- Get lost (check)
- Get found (check)
- Lost again (check)

Wait, that went off track. 

Adulthood is a lot of getting off track.  And back on.  It's weird.

I thought at 40, I would have it all together.

But, I'm barely keeping it from falling apart. 


So, this is me where I am now.

40, working, waiting.  My boy's on a mission in Boise.  My girl's 12 going on 20.  My husband hates his job most days, and loves it alternatively.  Same for me.  We live in a small town I don't like very much and dream of going somewhere else, but we don't know where that is. 

I want to be a writer, but I don't spend time writing.

I read something the other day that gave me hope: Guy Fieri…

It feels like...

Having an (almost) teenage daughter can be...quite an experience. 

"I hope you have a kid just like you," so the saying goes.  Usually, you only hear this if you're a rough kid.  I was a rough kid - in some ways.  I gave my mom a pretty hard time.  And, if she wished for a kid that was 'just like me' to come along as payback - the parent gods smiled on that wish.

Today (after a pretty tragical and frustrating encounter) Carly said: I just needed to get mad at somebody.  I don't know why.

Well, if that doesn't sum up teenage angst, I don't know what does.

It also kind of applies to adult angst.  Some days I just want to be mad at somebody and walk around stomping my feet.  Today I felt like that.  In between good things, though, so at least there's balance.

And balance is tricky this days, too.

It feels like the house is a wreck (it mostly isn't, but sort of is).

It feels like I'm swimming in work and can't catch up (this one is very tr…