A path along the way . . .
I have chosen a new path these days, or perhaps the path has chosen me. The coastal breeze of the Pacific Ocean no longer cools me,…
Embracing change . . .
Sinking into the oversized sofa, I sit one leg bent beneath me, wiping an endless stream of tears from my cheeks and neck. I blow my…
Letting go of pride . . .
Friday afternoon, school is clear of children and teachers. I sit at my desk assessing the neatly organized paper piles laid out before me. I could…
Hope comes home . . .
I lay awake, heart racing. Resting my hand upon my chest, I struggle to take a deep breath and remind myself to stay calm. I sit…
Opie remembers . . .
Originally posted on Bare Naked in Public:
A Midwest summer afternoon, the weather report promises a day hotter than yesterday and a good dose of humidity;…
Finding hope in rock bottom . . .
I walk into the first grade classroom of my newest teacher, her first year. A black line drawing of a turtle, its shell a patchwork of…
I choose . . .
Looking toward Catalina I see its faint silhouette in the summer haze. I wonder if the French speaking tourists lounging on the sand nearby know there…
Confessions of an insomniac . . .
Except for the tiniest bit of dim light coming from the master bath, my bedroom is dark. The soft rustle of sheets as I toss and…
Finding her way . . .
Surrounded by opened mail and neatly organized piles of bills and receipts, I sit cross legged on the turquoise sofa. My laptop rests on a pillow…
Letting go . . .
Saturday morning I sit sipping my coffee, waiting for Phyllis to join me. Across the small cafe table her black coffee, steam escaping the tiny hole…
