Above, a robotic voice soothes stops and connections while green neon flashes towns, places, times. I breathe these details in.
I follow Kayli’s eyes, search for stories.
Ahead, a teenage girl with shimmering eyeshadow and blushed cheeks laughs- her mouth wide, her silken curls swaying against the small of her back.
One eyelash flutter later, her friends turn away. She leans into the seat in front of her, rests her head, closes her eyes. She sits alone.
Further ahead, the tall middle aged man who sat with his arms crossed and mouth set when we arrived, has given up his seat for a mother and toddler.
The woman across from us has been speaking a titch too loudly for this shared space. She taps her impossibly high heel in rhythm to her perfectly painted nails.
Now she closes her phone and lilts to my girl about second grade and lip gloss and Magic Tree Houses.
The train slows. I glance out the window, see a man stub out a cigarette before hopping onto the train. His beard matted, his t-shirt stained.
He sits across from me, I avert my eyes.
Brody maneuvers the space between Jason and me, reaching his suddenly long arms as he makes his way.
The train jars and he loses his footing. That man whose eyes I wouldn’t meet steadies him with the gentlest of hands and the kindest of smiles.
And now I am jarred. I’m seeing -really seeing- people and stories, faces and smiles, crisp lines and bright colors.
Shades of childhood run through my heart, words swirl through my mind. I crave to write.
And so, I do.
I’m deep into my first women’s fiction novel, my heart lies with my characters.
I’m also so very proud to have essays published in:
And last, but not least, I’m the series editor for Pens and Paint, an anthology of poetry and artwork created by writers and artists ages six to eighteen, published by unbound CONTENT.
Thank you for being here, I’m thrilled to know you.