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…

A little wisdom . . .

The pouring rain floods the small patio outside the sliding glass door. Still in my pajamas I watch from the comfort of my bed. I wish…

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…

Four little squares . . .

The rusted hinges on the back door groan and stick; making a quiet entry impossible. I am certain my neighbors know exactly when I arrive home…

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,…

Spitting out the bitter pill . . .

Sitting at my desk on a very hectic Monday, fast and furiously typing emails, my cell phone lights up and a text appears from a girlfriend,…

Lighter and brighter . . .

I enter her home without knocking. Guests have already arrived, mingling, nibbling and drinking. Rachel greets me with a kiss as she always does, followed by…

A work in progress . . .

Entering the funeral home, I immediately hear laughter and friendly chatter. There is standing room only as friends and family spill out into the foyer. My…