Grace Notes

I think most writers have a theme they keep coming back to, no matter the piece they are working on. Unless I have completely misunderstood myself over the years, I recognize that my theme is one of finding the sacred in the ordinary.  Ordinary things, ordinary conversation, ordinary kindnesses.  This is fiction/non-fiction hybrid.

The rings on the sideboard have been polished, but not enough to erase them.

Ice filled glasses dripped right through the small linen squares that were inadequate against the condensation. The linens were not coasters, of course, but when your drink was freshly made and the glass still dry, you might hold the small square in your hand as a layer against the ice, not thinking ahead to when the glass would sweat right into the wood.

Pewter coasters with flying geese etched into them were set out, but after a few Manhattans, aiming to set the glass inside the lip was a challenge.  So the finely woven linens, freshly ironed that afternoon, stood in.

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