Endings and Beginnings . . .
I chose not to write about him, us, our relationship, during my time in Italy. A bit of my life I kept to myself, private, pure…
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…
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…
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…
Thank a teacher . . .
Growing up I always knew I wanted to be a teacher. I loved everything about school, reading, math, music, friendships, and lunch time socializing. I was fortunate, for…
Another serving of gratitude . . .
The year following the passing of my parents was a tough one. Void of their love and laughter, life was dull and sad. My relationship with my boyfriend…
Grateful for a treasured memory …
David married into one of my favorite families, a family that I absolutely love and consider my family too. So, like them, he became family as well. Aside…
Grateful for the little girl with glasses . . .
My daughter started wearing glasses when she was 9 months old, darling little cat-eyed bifocals. Her appearance drew a lot of attention as this was over 30 years ago and…
My boy . . .
1978 . . .In the very early hours on Friday of the Labor day weekend, I am approaching twenty-two long hours of labor. I am exhausted and somewhat delirious.…
