memories
-
Crazy will always be one of my favorite books I’ve written. First of all, how it was written is different than anything else I have ever done. In 2006, I was personally asked to come to an old truck stop restaurant on Old Route 66. The Tri County Truck Stop in Villa Ridge, Missouri. They…
-
Someday the world will wake up and I will no longer be here. Morning will come the way it always does. Coffee will be made. People will go to work. The quiet machinery of daily life will keep moving forward without noticing that one more voice has gone silent. That is the simple truth of…
-
It was around 1998. I was dating a man who lived in Columbia, Missouri. He was a tennis player. A handsome man who looked a little like a young Robert Redford. I fell hard for those blue eyes and that chiseled jaw. At the time I was raising my three children on my own. On…
-
These are thoughts from the quiet moments in the morning, from a night that was too long. Sometimes the quiet in the early morning gets loud enough that I finally let myself say it. Not out of frustration. Not as a defense. Just because it is true. I did my best. I was a very…
-
Every year, for as long as I can remember, I watched Meet Me in St. Louis with my mom. Every Christmas. That was our tradition. She loved that movie. I didn’t realize it at the time, but she was teaching me something. About music. About warmth. About how certain stories quietly become part of who…
-
There are times when I wish I could go back to the days before I saw the darkness for what it really is. Before I understood how deep it runs, not just through the world, but through people too. The difficulty comes when once you have seen that darkness, you cannot unsee it. You cannot…
-
I woke up this morning missing my dad. The thought of not being able to talk to him leaves this sickening hole in my heart. The grief takes you by surprise and knocks the wind completely out of you. Something good happens and you want to tell him. Something bad happens and you want to…
-
I have died before. Thirty-eight seconds on an operating table. I cannot tell you exactly what happened in those brief moments of death, but I can tell you what I felt and why it has stayed with me ever since. Those thirty-eight seconds stripped my life down to its bare truth. They showed me that…
-
Why do you hurt me?was the prayer I never said aloud.It lived in my mouth like a dying bird,fluttering, breaking its neckon the cage of my molars. You looked at me likesomething ungrateful.Something wild you forgot to tame.I didn’t understand.Not when I still thoughtblood meant safety,that family meant shelterand not war dressed as tradition. Later—I…
-
I remember the first time I saw you.You passed my doorwaywith a smile.Then walked through a wall—and vanished. I remember seeing youin my dreams.Same smile,as if you were knowing.Knowing what?I am not sure. I see the bloodrunning down your face.Your eyes glowing red.Then you’re gone again. Demon,some will tell me.Ghost,others might say. My imagination?Maybe.But you…
Steven LaChance Blog 