Daniel Alarcón
speaker
2,010 appearances
36 recordings
11 series
first heard Feb 2022
last heard 10 Jul
Daniel Alarcón’s voice in public audio — every appearance, attributed to the second.
Trend
recordings per month · last 12 monthsRecordings per month over the last 12 months — 33 in all, peaking in Jul 2026 with 25.
Appearances
a smooth gray rounded lake stone the kind off our beach at lake crescent the kind they had packed the wood stove with it sat in my palm warm from the dryer gray ordinary real and i want you to understand that i didn't pack one single thing out of that cabin
I've told you that twice now, and it's true.
I left everything.
I didn't bring home a stone.
There was no way for a Lake Crescent stone to be in my dryer in my apartment six weeks later.
No way at all.
Except that the lake had reached out and put it there.
The way it had reached out and put the wet boots at the bottom of the ladder.
The way it had reached out and lifted the latch by itself.
A small thing.
The cabin only ever did small things.
just a stone in the dryer warm in my hand to let me know it had not forgotten me to let me know it knew where i lived to let me know that it's patient and that the lake is deep and that it doesn't ever give back what it has decided to keep
i drove out to the coast that same night and i threw the stone as far into the pacific as i could throw it into salt water into the cold and the dark and the tide somewhere it couldn't be lake crescent anymore and i haven't gone near a lake since i don't think i ever will the water doesn't give them back
But I've learned that it'll always reach for more.
And on the nights when the rain comes down heavy and steady on the roof, warm and even, the kind of rain that makes a tired man want to close his eyes for just a second, I lie awake instead, and I keep them open.
And I think about a small boy down in 600 feet of cold blue water that will never let him go, and a cabin under a green roof that only ever wanted to fill an empty bed, and I am grateful every single time that I woke up.
My uncle Lowell died alone in a hunting cabin outside Old Forge, New York, sometime in the third week of October, and nobody found him for nine days.
He'd been a careful man his whole life, the kind who kept receipts in labeled envelopes and never once let a vehicle go past its service interval.
So the thing that ate at me afterward wasn't that he died.
He was 78, and his heart had been bad for a decade.
Showing 1041–1060 of 2,010 · page 53 of 101
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