Santa Magic

“I love Santa,” Cassatt said to me as he snuggled into bed.  When I asked why, he said, “because he’s my favorite.”

I can’t help but be amazed at my children’s belief in Santa.  Even though he is everywhere this time of year, even though the world is oversaturated with Christmas cheer, they believe in the magic.  They believe that Santa will leave them presents on Christmas Eve, and that he knows them and cares about them.

In my children’s belief in Santa, I feel some success as a parent. I have not imbued them with adult cynicism.  I have not created their world as I see it, but they are free to be children, to believe in Santa.

For me, the magic is in their belief.  In seeing the world through their eyes, full of magic and wonder.  This is the joy of Christmas.


Flash Fiction

I have been writing a lot of flash fiction lately–mostly in response to prompts I find at Carrot Ranch and Flash Friday.  (I find Carrot Ranch easier because they give me a full week to procrastinate.)  It’s a fun medium, and something I can tackle in a short period of time.

I entered the Flash Friday contest last week and wound up as a semifinalist.  Here is an excerpt from my round 2 piece:

Lit only by fluorescent lights and the green glow of the Computer Monster, three insubstantial walls contained my world. The world was silent, but for the soft click-clack of computer keys. I was not alone in my quest to find sunlight.

Click through for the rest of the 280 word piece.  Or just read the whole blog.


I have been putting a lot of flash fiction on my other blog, Fiction as Life. Here is a sample of what I have put up there. I’ve been having fun with Flash Fiction, short fiction pieces as complex as a poem. I hope you enjoy them.

Fiction As Life

“Don’t say it’s impossible,” Cecilia said.

He stared intently into the fire.  It felt like hours ago that they had roasted marshmallows over this same campfire.  Now their hands were idle, fidgeting, looking to occupy themselves. Cecilia longed to go to him and wipe the marshmallow drippings off his lips. Instead, she focused on peeling the bark off a twig.

“I can’t possibly take you with me.  It is not a place to be a tourist.”  She could barely hear him over the silence.

Cecilia walked resolutely to the tent.  It was time she got used to being alone.

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The Larger Issue in Ferguson

Ferguson is about so much more than Mike Brown. For those who believe that this was an isolated incident and Darren Wilson committed no crime–

 Think for a minute about what it would take for so many people to honestly believe a police officer killed an unarmed teenager in cold blood.  Regardless of how you feel about Ferguson, take a moment to put yourself in the shoes of a protester.


What’s on my menu?

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