KEVIN STANIEC DOT COM

After Ms. Uyeda, my third grade art teacher, would explain every detail for the class assignment she would finish her thought with a five simple words: “Get it. Got it. Good”.

Billiards. Double Dribble. Def Lepard. Pop Tarts. Washing my car. Writing our story. A walk on the beach. A swing on the playground. A simple painted tile illustrated by a child. I letter I struggled to write that has a happy ending.

I love the head nod of acknowledgement. It is a form of acceptance. A simple way to say that we are all in this together.

I stopped by the house this morning before heading off to work. My mother had just woke up and heard me in the other room. “Kevin?” she asked. I walked into the room, she was stretching in bed. “I am an alien and you are my alien baby.”

Truly, madly, deeply.

How does the radio know which songs to play on a rainy day?

Climbing a cloud. A collapsing of lines. A square pulled from the sky. My soft and subtle incline.