writing when inspired about the often overlooked
There I was – a blond-haired four year old living in the deep south community of Dixie, Alabama in the early 1950’s. My family, consisting of me and my parents, had just moved from a modern upstairs apartment in south central Pennsylvania with running water and a bathroom, to our “new” southern house, without running…
He loves his blankets. all five of them. Waking up, he points to a blanket saying “it,” over and over until his Grandma gathers all of them Then, and only then, does he melt into her lap, uncharacteristically quiet while he wakes up slowly to his world. Grandma loves these rare, quiet times all of…
Up to her usual shenanigans, April plays with us once again. She dusts our neighborhoods with snow while we sleep, chuckling at our dismay as we peer out the window in the morning. It doesn’t seem to matter to her we have the hammock and the swing in the yard. She tells us its sweater-time…
My phone rang late one evening. Seeing it was my young friend, I answered with a smile in my voice “Good evening, Bridgett.” (not her real name.) A small voice, said “Do you have time to talk?” Hearing “Of course,” the small voice became even smaller as the “little girl” inside my very grown up…
rounding a curve on rt. 205 the air traffic control tower looms above the horizon on the way to Portland International Airport (PDX), home of the iconic teal blue carpet (or is it teal green) where we take pictures of our feet the carpet that says “we’re home” or “we’re leaving.” today we are leaving….
I entered the second half of life with a sturdy bucket load of dreams, brimming with possibilities. In addition, that bucket held the resources I’d need in order to make them happen–things I thought I would do, who I thought I would become, places to which I would travel. Besides the writing classes and conferences…
If you have been reading for awhile here, you know I occasionally reference things my grandchildren have taught me. I find they are in the background of my mind most of my days. It’s no surprise when I sit down to be quiet, what is in the background comes to the fore. Wednesdays have become…
I dabbled at writing a diary in high school, but that diary disappeared along with the one I started my first year in college – the one where I carefully noted every interaction with any boy down to the detail of what was said and done so that someday I could return to said…
Although it has taken a long time, I have come to see grief as an uninvited guest who just keeps showing up. Occasionally I expect her. Other times she comes when least expected. She’s not someone to be rid of. We have become friends. After all, she is here because the one who is missing…
Jesus, I was hoping you would have something for me here at the beach today. You often do when I take time to look up, look down, look around, but I didn’t do a lot of that kind of looking today. While I found myself restless in my body, there still was a peacefulness of mind…