I've never been less than an hour early for my train. I don't know if it comes from a sense of heightened preparedness or an ongoing current of anxiety that doesn't even let me sleep in on weekends ... [+]
Liz Mayers writes from Long Island, NY. Ideas for her stories usually come at 4:30 am. She hikes, practices yoga, and travels. "Where I See Myself in 150 Years or Less" is in Short Circuit #07, Short Édition's quarterly review.
Working toward sainthood this summer solved some of my problems. For one, my daily-Mass-going mother got off my back about getting a job and moving out permanently. Plus, it gave her something to brag about to her friends. I overheard her on the phone, "Did I tell you about Lewis? He's going to be a saint one day." I spent my days healing the planet. Except on rainy or overcast days, when I mostly read and napped. Otherwise, I picked up trash on the beach: plastic bottles and bags, bottle caps, cigarette butts, strips of cellophane, and deflated balloons. My vision is to be canonized Saint Le