Sunday morning thought

I left my house this morning at 4:45AM.

The sun was about to rise and the birds were chirping. I walked to my car and thought, “I used to come home at this time,” but that was a long time ago and I was a different person then.
There was a cool wind coming from the north and the moon was still out. I drove away from my house and headed in to fill another overtime shift on a Sunday morning.

Behind me, the sun began its rise and its reflection changed the colors of the glass buildings on Hempstead Turnpike.
And as I drove, my daughter is somewhere upstate. I suppose she Continue reading

5 pieces about balance


I sat on the corner of Front Street and Merrick Avenue. Behind me, the small 7/11 parking lot filled and emptied with cars of different customers that quickly moved in and out of the store.
Across the street, the old service station on the northeast corner was going through a modernization for its new owners.
On the southwest corner, the Waldbaum’s parking lot was busy. Fleet bank was closed, but the Continue reading

tired prose from the blue collar kid

Yesterday morning:
Girl sitting next to me on the train had bed breath. I knew this because she was waving a large manila folder across her face, like a fan, and each time the folder swayed in my direction, it sent over a whiff of her breath.
I have been riding this train for more than 20 years, and not always by choice. If there was Continue reading

just to write

So, I have this early childhood memory that comes to me every so often.
It was summertime. The sun was setting and my bedtime was around the corner. I tried to argue my case about staying up later, but my case was denied.
Instead, I took the trade and I was allowed to drink iced tea for the first time.
The brand was 4C Lemon Iced Tea
(Isn’t it funny the things we remember?)

I recall lying in my twin-sized bed with Popeye sheets and pillow cases beneath a maroon colored blanket. I remember looking at the old brown and gray air-conditioner, which hung in my bedroom window. The room slowly dimmed with the sunset, and everything was good.

I was too young to know about loss. I was too young to understand insecurity or become worried with doubt. At that age, everything was possible. My worst fear was the Feetie Monsters underneath my bed. And in order to keep my feet away from the monsters, I would tuck the covers beneath my feet. In fact, I still sleep with the covers wrapped around my feet to this day. Continue reading

prose from a divroced dad

The problem with being a divorced parent is the things we miss, like saying goodnight, or seeing your child come home from school. I suppose the earlier years were hardest for me. But now, I must have blinked and my little girl who used to speak in her little voice and hold things in her tiny hands is now ten years-old. She is not so little anymore.

I need to work in order to keep the things I have. I need to pay bills, and buy things, like food and clothes. I need to turn on lights in my home; I need to heat it in the winter and cool it in the summer.
In order to keep my neck above the waterline, I need to take extra hours at work because without overtime, the waterline rises, and there is no fear worse than the fear of being under water.
The problem with being a divorced dad is the things I missed like the recitals, or picking up my daughter at say, gymnastics.  And the problem with working long hours is the missed opportunities on an already limited schedule.  And now she is older. Now she goes to sleep away camp…… Continue reading


After the bruises heal, the scars begin to form, and then they turn deeper, which is worse, because there are no scars deeper than the ones in your mind.
These are the deep cuts. They are the ones sliced by words.
They are the cuts of our uncontrollable outcomes.

These are the wounds that keep us from moving forward and steal our freedom. These are the scars that keep us from believing anything can be good, and worse, these are the wounds that bury our hopes and keep us from fighting back ….because we never knew we could. Continue reading

velvet ropes

I used to call them Velvet Ropes. And by this I meant the pretty ones.
I called them Velvet Ropes because the pretty were always chosen. Meanwhile, the average or below stood on the outside looking in.

After the spinning lights and smoke-filled rooms with loud trance-like music in a Midtown nightclub, and after the Continue reading