Writer Leslie Cox

Author: Leslie J. Cox

  • Palm Walk

    I step outside the conference center to make my way home. One sprinkle, two, then three in quick succession. Rain wasn’t in my plan today. An hour’s drive this morning, followed by eight hours of writing sessions means a longing to get home, especially before dark.  Raindrops dance on my nose, my forehead, and smudge…

  • Mr. Bunny

    I can’t stop watching. I sit by the window, binoculars in hand, journal and pen at the ready. A small bunny sneaks under the gate into my backyard where he waits until tree leaves shade the lawn. When all is quiet, he scampers to the nearest bush to have a look around. He attempts one…

  • The Keen Scents of Millie

    The Keen Scents of Millie What is it that changes the scent of Millie’s fur from one day to the next? All the smells repeat themselves, but not consistently. It’s always a surprise. In thirteen years of Millie’s life, I’ve drawn in eight different fragrances while nuzzling her sweet face, neck, and body. Those long…

  • Kid Table

    I’m a table. Not the kind you would imagine. I’m tiny. And two tiny chairs snuggle up against me most of the time.  I wasn’t complete when I first arrived at the lady’s front porch. The box that held me was so dark and snug, I could barely breathe. But soon, the lady took me…

  • Happy Father’s Day

    Jack’s Shadowbox Jack of all trades. Demigod of the garden. Camper extraordinaire. Master of music. Guru of games—rummy, poker, pool, and Wheel of Fortune. He roasted green chilis fresh off the vine, cooked up fresh-caught, deep-fried catfish, served hot chocolate gravy over biscuits for breakfast, and ran a locomotive to boot. A 7 x 10-inch…

  • A Mother’s Legacy

    Mom and I talked every day, from the moment she woke up, right before falling asleep each night, and a few times in between. If she didn’t hear from me, she feared for my life. And though we had little news to share, it was nice to hear her voice. I couldn’t stand the thought…

  • 8:16 On The Clock

    Dad had a curious habit of calling out birth dates from numbers on his digital clock. My children and niece have birthdays in September, on the 12th and 13th. So, at 9:12 (am or pm) on any given day, Dad would say “Look at that. It’s Nick’s birthday on the clock.” And at 9:13, he’d grin…

  • Job Application Letter

    Homebody Craft Vineyards 1046 E. Best Wines Boulevard Paso Robles, CA 93446 RE: Letter of Application for Remote/Telecommuting Position Dear Hiring Manager: Thank you for the opportunity to apply for a customer service position with your distinguished company, Homebody Craft Vineyards. With the holidays upon us, I have already started researching this wine distributor by purchasing…

  • Grannie’s Fideo

    Imagine yourself as a teenager, dilly-dallying after school. No hurry to get home. You hang out at the bus stop with friends until your stomach starts to growl and you start thinking about dinner. It’s a warm day, and as you’re walking home, you realize you smell like books and physical education class and beanie…

  • Mountain Chickadee

    The mountain chickadee is tiny. She is quick, agile, and curious like me. She’s a songbird, whistling an enchanting tune, like the ones my dad whistled while tending to his garden. Usually, he whistled songs from The Beatles, especially Let It Be. The lyrics are hopeful. Dad was hopeful. He believed there would be an answer…