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…
thank you, pass it on . . .
A small book on meditation, a list of handwritten recommendations from a private session with my yoga teacher, and a few cherished notes from friends are…
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…
The nearness of you . . .
A light breeze blows through the kitchen of my uncles’ home, a little relief from the hot steam rising above the iron as I press a…
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,…
Letting go of pride . . .
Friday afternoon, school is clear of children and teachers. I sit at my desk assessing the neatly organized paper piles laid out before me. I could…
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…
The space in between . . .
Riding my bike south on the crowded trail, I avoid the darting children and dogs. The sun sparkles on the ocean, the breeze blows my hair…
You are almost there . . .
Sitting crossed legged on my sofa, watching what I call crap TV, I pay my bills. It’s my method, my routine. My open wallet lies nearby,…
