“‘I was born under a bad sign,’ he said.
‘You’re a Scorpio? There was a ring around the moon?’
‘No. My mother gave birth to me in the back of a 1963 Rambler under a highway sign for Akron, Ohio.’
She wasn’t sure whether or not to believe him, but played along. ‘You don’t like Akron?’
‘I don’t know. The wind blew the sign down, into our front grill and headlights. We got towed to Cuyahoga Falls.’
‘Is that where you grew up?’
‘No, it’s how I got my middle name.’
‘Your middle name is Cuyahoga? That was a bad sign.’
I take photos. I write. My volunteer job is taking photos of rescued dogs and cats transported by the rescue group whose records I manage. Since working and volunteering don’t leave me a lot of time to write, I’m spending 2017 borrowing from what these dogs and cats are writing. They said it’s okay.