Alice shook stones from her sandal. They sprayed across the ground, barely missing a stripey monarch caterpillar. “I’m sorry,” Alice said reflexively.

“You should be.” The caterpillar inched onto Alice’s other sandal. “Give me a lift. It’s the least you could do after nearly squishing me.”

“What?”

The caterpillar said, “Botanical garden; milkweeds, please.”

What were the odds? Zero, the odds were zero. The milkweeds waved pink heads in the wind. A few released their silky seeds. Alice felt stones in her sandals. No, in her sneakers, she was wearing sneakers. The patterned sunlight colored her calm. No caterpillars, nowhere.

On Hallow’s Eve

Rain-dappled moonlight pierced the clouds on a wet Halloween night. It cast a silo of light, illuminating a broom abandoned in a muddy field. The broom danced alone to silent music; a step, a dip, a leap. It wished for company. A witch materialized from thin air.

“I’ve come through the veil to find my sister,” she said.

The broom curtseyed, in the stiff way that brooms do. “Climb on.”

The broom got cozy under the witch’s woolen cloak, and with a few mumbled spells, the witch searched the Earth on the one night when living and dead mingle together.

Advice from an Older Me to My Six Year-old Self

I traveled in time to my sixth birthday party. I spoke with my younger self. “Psst. It’s hard to wait when you’re six.”

“Yeah, it’s not fair. It’s my birthday. I’m last in line for all the games. My aunt said I should get to go first, but Dad won’t listen to anyone.

“Relax. Life is waiting in lines. You’ll learn to notice what’s important. You’ll see; that’s your superpower.”

“I’m mad and I’m sad.”

“You’ll remember the party that way. But learning to wait is valuable, even when you think waiting isn’t worth it. Also, Dad’s not always right.”

Thank You for Your Attention

Concerned about CRIME! He is ready to lead. You know WHO! TRUMP’s been leading us the wrong way since the CENTRAL PARK 5! Such a strong response. But, those five boys WEREN’T GUILTY.

In 1989, SOME PEOPLE SAID that WE HAD TO DO SOMETHING. And so Trump took out that DEATH PENALTY AD against those innocent boys. And some people believed him. Like they do now. DON’T you BELIEVE IT!

WOKE crime. He’s on it now. National guards coming to a city near you, especially a low-life DEMOCRATic city. The crime rate will drop if PEOPLE stay inside all SCARED!

In Retreat

Lily had a cup of coffee and a bowl of granola after an hour of yoga. The beach was a ten minute walk away. She didn’t gag at the disagreeable smell of rotting algae. She reveled in it. The sight of plovers hopping along, their beaks poking the wet sand to find breakfast, delighted her. The sunrise shone behind them.

She was beginning to enjoy the solitary days, the solo walks, the freedom to set her own schedule. A month after her partner passed, she had found a natural habitat where death and life mingled and new mixed with old.

Fiction Interrupted by Facts

Autism scares the bejesus out of MAHA. I understand.

It’s a big complicated issue with multiple causes. Autism fits on a continuum of neurodivergence along with ADD, OCD, bipolar and others. If you have a child on that continuum, the last thing you want to hear is people playing a blame game. Your child is not a pawn. You want to do something.

I have been there. Here’s an excellent place to start : https://www.nytimes.com/2025/09/24/opinion/autism-rates-science-diagnosis-parent.html

The author of this essay has written a book: “Unstrange Minds: Remapping the World of Autism.”

And some good news about research being funded by the N.I.H.:

Next week: Back to fiction

Living on the Edge of Time

The dust flew in front of her broom raising a cloud in the moonlight. She swept when she wanted, ate when she pleased. The rhythm of the ocean, the lighthouse, and her life as caretaker filled her days and nights. The flashing Fresnel lens, its light constant, guided sailors in the worst weather. Guided them safely to shore. A guide is what she’d become. She knew the rocky, sandy, sea-stained cliffs.

She knew enough to steer clear. She’d learned on her own wreck of a life. In the damp ocean air, she watched the moon cycle through never changing phases.

No Longer Waiting

Calypso, Circe, and Griselda waited to begin. They gasped with delight when Penelope arrived without Odysseus, a red and yellow striped hula hoop spinning to the sway of her hips.
It flew up. It centered itself. Now they were ready to roll.

The four joined hands and swirled madly around the hoop. Calypso’s sweet soprano lifted their hearts while Circe cast a spell of impatience that Penelope wove into a new adventure. Griselda simply danced. They spun faster and faster, until the hoop transformed into a Möbius strip. In one smooth move, they disappeared into a chaos of roiling branches.

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