I wake up in the bed my mother slept in, surrounded by the things that were hers.  It’s almost exactly as it was the day she died two years ago.  Sunlight has been streaming through the windows for hours and I am getting out of bed.  I tell myself I have to, I will myself to move because...

In the spring, the calves start coming.  Coveralls get put up on the winter rack, chickens start laying eggs once again, the days get warmer and the sun shines longer.  And with every birth the herd grows in size, so long as the coyotes keep away.  This year, by Cinco de Mayo, all but one...

You wake up at 4 a.m. The sirens blare outside your window, almost drowning out the incessant noise of college bars and trains of revelry rolling nowhere. You toss. You turn. Looking out the window, you try to remember what exactly a waterfall looks like, and how it felt when the water danced...

We turned off our cell-phones just as we reached the city limits.  For the next two weeks everything that happened had nothing to do with technology—we were off the grid and driving straight into the desert of Moab, Utah. The rendezvous with the rest of the party was set for main street,...