Hiding in plain sight . . .
We gather around the dining room table, our small, intimate writers group. Sipping tea and coffee, and snacking on popcorn, each of us takes a turn…
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…
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…
Choose love . . .
Sitting at my kitchen table, warmed by the fire and sipping hot tea, I write my Christmas cards. I add just a few words of love…
Coincidence and courage . . .
My garage door slowly opens and I carefully back my car into the alley avoiding my trash cans. Making a last minute trip to Trader Joe’s…
My Mother . . . myself
I woke up this morning to drizzly gloomy skies, a reflection of my heart and mind, it seems summer is taking her own sweet time. Generally,…
Lessons learned . . .
I think about my dad every day. This year marks our eighth Father’s Day without him. In our family’s early years, my dad often scheduled his work travel…
Golden Windows . . . .
The sun shines on a beautiful summer afternoon. We sit at a small café table, across from one another, leaning in and sharing lunch. He shows…
Here and now . . .
I spent many, many years dancing the same dance with my son. We had a pattern, a rhythm to our words and interactions. I counted on…
