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The world turns gold, amber, brown—leaves crisp underfoot like forgotten letters.The lake house stirs from its long solitude,windows blinking awake as tires crunch gravel. From distant cities they come:children peering through screen doors,mothers nesting in knitted sweaters,fathers spiraling pigskin through November air. The table groans under the weight of memory—mashed potatoes smooth as unspoken apologies,pecan
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Today’s writing prompt: Have you ever been camping? I woke up tucked inside a sleeping bag in the back of a 1974 Ford LTD station wagon — the original lowrider SUV, if you ask me. The back seats folded flat, creating a makeshift bunk where my six-year-old brother was snuggled to my right, and my
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Hey Dad, How’s the view from where you are? Is Jesus keeping you company, sharing stories over some cosmic equivalent of coffee? Yesterday was your birthday—eighty-one, if time even bothers to count where you are. Do you celebrate, or is that date just a faint echo of a life left behind? I wonder, sometimes, if
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What are your favorite emojis? Truth be told, I’m not a fan of emojis. Sure, they’re quick, snappy, and sometimes hit the mark for both sender and receiver. But let’s be real—when they miss, they miss. Back in the day (yep, dusting off my ancient credentials here), we’d pick up the phone, swing by someone’s
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A brunette perches at the bar, her eyes catching the glint of amber in the bottle—Macallan 25, dark and enigmatic, a suitor in a glass. He’s handsome by every measure, aged to a quiet swagger, promising warmth and secrets. She orders him neat. No pretense, no dilution. The glass arrives, heavy with anticipation, and she
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“Some doors don’t open with force. They wait for the right hands, at the right time.” bb grey Yard sales weren’t Robert’s thing. Not even close. But Beth—Beth thrived on them.“Look at this! A whole world of treasures just waiting to be rescued!” she’d say, grinning like she’d found buried gold in a box marked
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Fiji, 1980s. The sun’s a smug bastard, grinning down, reminding me it’s summer here while Los Angeles shivers. Waves lap at the shore, warm as a lover’s whisper, every thirty seconds or so. I’m eighteen, cocky, standing in nemo-print trunks—pre-movie, mind you, maybe I inspired Pixar. Signed up for this swim-snorkel-underwater-cave deal. Sounded like a
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Prompt: Write about a time when you didn’t take action but wish you had. What would you do differently? Financial decisions come to mind. A relationship I held onto longer than I should have. Another I didn’t jump into when the moment opened. Business opportunities I let pass. All of it. Each choice—or lack of
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What Makes Me Nervous? Oh, Just the End of the World as We Know It As a construction business owner with a few degrees under my hardhat, I’m no stranger to stress. But when I read headlines screaming, “DOW headed for worst April since the Great Depression—yes, that 1932 debacle, not the Great Recession we
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How do I unwind after a demanding day? I sit.I breathe.And sometimes—I remember. Back in 2008, when the Great Recession was battering my business and life felt like it was unraveling one invoice at a time, I developed a small ritual. After a long day—clients yelling, banks circling, friends and subcontractors losing homes—I’d pull into
“All colors made me happy even grey.” Nabokov, Pale Fire
A German carpenter by day working hard to follow a Jewish carpenter, exploring writing as a creative outlet. Passionate about learning through practice and observation.
BB Grey--musings 