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…
The magic I have . . .
It’s raining in Milan, gray and dreary. I wonder if the weather has anything to do with how I feel, missing home. I talked to my…
Thanks for the love . . .
My Faithful Friends, Tis the season to show some gratitude . . . and give a little love. I am grateful to all of you for…
Keeping the faith . . .
Since arriving in Italy, I have spent a good amount of time visiting churches, cathedrals and even an abbey. It’s not unusual for me to pass…
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…
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…
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…
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,…
Rhyming shapes . . .
The sun shines, the ocean breeze gently blows, and I sweep my hair away from my face. Sitting on the low edge of my concrete planter,…
A message from the ocean . . .
Lounging on my bed, one leg stretched, and the other bent creating a space to cradle my laptop, pillows tucked all around me to support my…
