Words with Strangers . . .
Words with Strangers . . . Words with Friends is my guilty pleasure. It satisfies my psyche on so many levels. My competitive side loves to…
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…
The simple life . . .
Lying on my back, my book held arm’s length above my face, it shades my eyes from the bright sun. I read and sunbathe along the…
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…
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…
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…
at the end of the day . . .
Light rain falls, red tail lights glow as far as the eye can see, traffic crawls on the 405. A steady low rumble reminds me that…
my heart speaks . . .
Entering my house through the back door, I quickly climb the stairs to the second floor. I run through the living room and into the kitchen,…
Reason # 999 for not dating . . . yet
Rushing to meet my sister and my brother-in-law at a local bar, I blindly dig through my handbag, my fingers searching for my tiny coin purse,…
