Perspective . . .
Late Sunday morning, still in pajamas, I sit cross-legged on the sofa, looking through a dusty storage box for a photograph of my mom. I don’t…
Detours . . .
Bedding and sheets lay neatly folded in cardboard boxes in the corner of the guest room. Gigantic plastic bags stuffed full with new pillows are piled…
Still amazing . . .
Unable to sleep, I lay awake and think about him. I don’t want to, but I do. Instead of letting those thoughts float away, I cling…
Write, edit, rinse, repeat . . .
Tap, tap, tapping away on my keyboard, reading and rereading chapters, my eyes burn. I understand now why other writers have said that editing a story…
Hard, but not impossible . . .
I blink in the darkness, it takes me a second to remember where I am. My fourth bed in as many weeks as I search for…
Endings and Beginnings . . .
I chose not to write about him, us, our relationship, during my time in Italy. A bit of my life I kept to myself, private, pure…
School days . . .
An early morning message had me misty eyed. One of my former bosses, colleague and friend, was perusing Instagram and stumbled upon one of my photos…
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,…
Bare Naked in Public 