On my way . . .
“Home . . . I’m on my way “ It took a split second to recall why I had written those words . . .…
“Home . . . I’m on my way “ It took a split second to recall why I had written those words . . .…
Love is in the air . . . well not for me, but I’m certainly surrounded by it lately. A few weeks ago I sat under…
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…
I slide the window shade up a few inches, careful not to let too much light into the airplane. We are pretending it’s nighttime as we…
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…
I stand at the back gate of the school, the designated spot for picking up first graders. My grandson knows I’m his ride today and I…
I blink in the darkness, it takes me a second to remember where I am. My fourth bed in as many weeks as I search for…
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…
Lying on my back, my book held arm’s length above my face, it shades my eyes from the bright sun. I read and sunbathe along the…
Wearing flip-flops, I walk slowly, slightly stooped, along the pebbled shore. I am careful to maintain my balance on the rocky water’s edge as I search…