Lawless Letters

Many of us modern-day humans hang out online with people we’ve never in person. The Internet is full of communities, and members of those communities sometimes become friends. But if you’ve never met someone in real life, are they really a friend? To answer that question, you’d first have to ask, “What is a friend?” And I suspect that answer is different for everybody.  What Defines a Friend? Linguistically speaking, there are as many definitions of “friend” as there are dictionaries. The Oxford English Dictionary calls friendship “an informal relationship of mutual trust and intimacy.” The Russian Ozhegov Dictionary agrees trust is key, defining friendship as “a close relationship, based on mutual trust, affection and unity of interests.” Merriam-Webster offers several definitions, including “a favored companion.” I would say someone is a friend if you enjoy each other’s company and care about each other’s well-being. My friends are people I’ve bonded with in some way – perhaps v...

Without its diamonds, it was a beet-hued hunk of junk, an Americana tchotchke. Stolen, never recovered, the news had said. Dialing, she held the Liberty Bell Ruby to the sunlight. “Larry,” she said, “you’re not gonna believe what I just got at a yard sale for seven bucks.” Writing Prompt:  Include the words ruby and seven  

Paper is obsolete now, right? We have e-books. We have Docusign. We have online newspapers, magazines, annual reports, birthday cards, and, of course, e-mail. OK, it's not obsolete yet. But even Luddites like me have embraced the digital age. My one holdout: I can’t quit paper books. And getting mail is still fun, even though nobody except my mom mails me anything anymore. The older I get, the less paper I want cluttering up my life. File folders are bulky; storing them is annoying. Bills pile up on surfaces and are easier to pay online. Even our beloved books are a burden to cart around; we did a book purge during our last move and it felt oddly freeing. Then there's the environmental impact. Hanging out at home during the pandemic has made it clearer to me than ever how many dead trees dwell in my house. So, yesterday, after receiving my umpteenth piece of snail mail from Computershare, I took myself to their website to switch to online statements. Some compan...

“And I’ve never been the same,” I concluded, sighing. Next to me, in the window seat, the dog looked at me with big, brown, soulful eyes. “Rough,” she said. Only she had acknowledged my pain, hadn’t tried to explain it away. I smiled at my new best friend. Prompt: Tell us a story that includes an animal where there shouldn’t be one

Something moved in the shadows. It loosened itself from the mud where it had lain buried for sixty years. Rising, it swirled, taking form. From its center, a fiddle’s tune sprang forth, leaping and dancing like a candle flame. In the rocking chair, the old woman smiled, tapped her foot, and hummed along.

We’re in our fifth week of the state-mandated COVID-19 lockdown. I’ve just spent my 39th consecutive day in the company of nobody except my husband, kids, dog, cat, and the platoon of ants that plundered our kitchen. Shit’s still as weird as it was a month ago , but, to my surprise, it’s not all bad. It took me a few weeks (and bottles of wine) to get here. When this all started, many of us went through a “WTF period” as we flailed around, adjusting to the new normal. Take it from me: supervising e-learning for two children while simultaneously working a full-time corporate job is not for the weak. Suddenly I was wearing multiple hats, all day, every day: teacher’s aide, tech support, cook, hall monitor, recess monitor, stage manager, janitor, and counselor, plus my day job. When you wear nine hats at the same time, a couple of them are bound to fall off at least once a day. To cope, and because my brain requires lists, I started jotting down things I missed. After a while, I sta...

Billy shoved the spade downward, scooping dirt. Clang. With his fingers, he dug trenches around the metal box, wiggled it free. Behind the oak, Grandpa had said. These hands can’t dig anymore. Finders, keepers. The lid creaked open. Atop the pile, Joe DiMaggio’s face smiled back at Billy. Prompt: earth