Tag Archives: Michael Estabrook

Philosophy

When I was younger I’d walk the train tracks beyond where we lived pondering the direction of my life where have I been? where am I going? what am I doing or not doing? what could I be doing better? … Continue reading

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Football

Sometimes when my brother sat alone on the stoop watching I’d try to get him involved in the touch football game being played in the street by calling out to him tossing him the football but he simply leaned to … Continue reading

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Hearing Aid

I’ve become a broken-down old man, taking all these damn pills, drinking prune juice, sitting on my heating pad, turning the TV up louder and LOUDER. I recall my Grandfather, so hard of hearing but never admitting it, never giving … Continue reading

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When the Rain Stops

Long gray day melting into an off-white, rainy-wet night. A window-box is overflowing with little purple-faced flowers, wet railroad tracks reflect yellow street lights like in an old black and white movie. A woman trying to make herself smaller beneath … Continue reading

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Churches Become Theaters

At the edge of town an old church with steeple, spire and bell, huge, leaning, lurching like a beached ship’s hull. Wooden and white except for the peeling paint and worn-out spots on the stairs and aisles where countless shoes … Continue reading

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Facebook: In a relationship and out

Status: In a Relationship With his changed status he flies down to Florida, to spend a week with an old girlfriend from high school, now both divorced. 40 years earlier they dated casually, and corresponded while he was in the … Continue reading

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My Dad’s Name Was Bob

I’m grown-up visiting Mom in the old house on Northfield Avenue. I’m down in the basement. Dad’s workbench is strewn with tools, they’re all over the bench and the floor, but these are wrenches and pipe cutting tools, and pipes, … Continue reading

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