Tag: personal essay
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Portuguese Divider
1987. A new school, a teacher named Silva, and a chalkboard drawing he called a Portuguese Divider. I was in his class three weeks, but I never forgot him.
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Keys to Peace
Forgiveness isn’t a finish line. It’s a practice you keep performing especially when you keep running into the person who hurt you.
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Who She Is
Green light. Head down. My hand hovering over the horn. I knew exactly who she was — until I remembered who I was.
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What Got Left Out
His photo ran above eight hundred words of honest praise. I know the other side of that door. This is about holding both.
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Sit Down. Stay.
What does it feel like to live in the middle of grief? A personal essay on losing Jude, the Swamp of Sadness, and why the best thing you can do for someone grieving is simply sit down and stay.
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Rose Festival 1990-Something
A bucket hat, a festival, and a version of himself he hasn’t thought about in years — here’s a memory that still fits.
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Two Ounces of Pride
Ten miles in, my legs gave out. A friend running past didn’t ask if I was okay — she just handed me what I needed. Two Ounces of Pride — a new story on Five Minute Observations.
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Love Pursues
Our truck slid off a jungle bridge, plunging us into the river. Tires blew. But the frame? It held. Our story doesn’t start at the bridge. Find out more. Read Love Pursues. Five Minute Observations.
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Different Lenses
Show up. It costs less than five minutes. Or maybe you get a cold shoulder, or a fabulous meal. Whatever you get, it’s always worth it to show up.
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Nine of Spades
A card reading. A dead cigar. And a thirteen-year-old boy who didn’t believe in any of it — until Uncle Wade folded the silk and never touched the cards again.
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First Date
“I don’t appreciate what you said about my friends today.” I had no idea what she meant. That would turn into my first date. Read how it all happened.
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Who Told You?
Some voices don’t need your permission to stay. But they don’t have the right to either.
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Still Driving
Two years I’ve held onto this, thinking it wasn’t worth sharing. I changed my mind because it was a perfect day for driving. Some mornings even when you follow all the rules, accidents happen.
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Deserving of Walkout Music
Does anyone throw a party for staying? For quietly inconveniencing yourself when leaving made more sense? Nobody cues the walkout music for that. But they should.
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A Half Marathon, a Stranger, and the Race I’m Really Running
The morning air was a lie, the hills were brutal, and I was just trying to make it to the next mailbox. Then a stranger at the finish line said something that made me realize I’d been running a different race the whole time.
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What You Missed
Wave after wave. Three deaths. One pandemic. And a marriage ending without a conversation. I yelled, screamed, and cried to God. But somehow, on the other side of it all, I found real gratitude and what it feels like.
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From Behind the Counter
Terry pressed his face against the glass and peered in at us. “Smokers,” he said. “In their natural habitat.” This is a story about a breakroom, a movie, and what we were promised.
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What Are The Odds
I got fired on a Friday. Made a phone call. Started a new job on Monday. Worked there long enough to memorize one name. Left fifteen years ago and never thought about it again. Then on Saturday, at a wedding reception, the woman sitting next to me said that name out loud. What are the…
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A Brief Inconvenience
Is it worth it to show up? Misery loves company. We lied. We just didn’t want to be alone. Showing up depends on what you’re carrying.
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Asking a Fair Question
Tamatha asked some hard questions about prayer on Facebook. Questions I couldn’t shake. She’s right about every word. This one? It’s for her. And for anyone else who’s been handed a ‘God had a plan’ speech when what they needed was someone to just sit down and shut up. fiveminuteobservations.com