After my mom passed away, mornings were the toughest time of day for me. Before she died, mom and I used to start most mornings on the phone over coffee. Some days I would call her, and she would say, “give me a few minutes to grab my coffee and I’ll call you right back.”… Read More Morning Coffee Chats…A Hard Habit To Break.
My mom had a plate she displayed on the kitchen counter. It was white, rectangular shaped, and sat on a small easel. Nothing out of the ordinary really. She used it as a makeshift bulletin board mostly for reminders. With a dry erase marker she would jot down an appointment reminder or a couple of… Read More Mom’s Christmas Plate
The airport felt more like an amusement park with people lined up elbowing their way to the front of the rollercoaster line. I slowly shuffled forward a couple of steps at a time. Normally, I love people watching, creating stories in my head for the elderly couple holding hands behind me or the young mom… Read More Is There Ever A Good Time To Check Your Baggage?
Little by little we let go of loss but never of love. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp. https://twitter.com/LittleMizWordy/status/1227308150518403072 Loss can bring us to our knees in a moment’s time or slowly simmer within… Read More Learning To Dance With The Limp
Photo by burak kostak on Pexels.com I’m here now. Please, take my hand. We were good together once. We can be again. You always were more stubborn than me, but now I’m the one who isn’t giving up. We vowed we would be together forever. I know I broke that promise once, but… Read More For She Had Eyes And Chose Me.
I watch them from the back of the church as they gather together, looking unsure in their black suits and dresses – attire fit for a funeral. It may actually be their first. I’ll have to remember to ask later. Teenagers are meant to attend basketball games, concerts, homecoming dances. I guess this is… Read More Fallen Bridges Are Rebuilt With Broken Hearts
Darkness in light. Light in darkness. Silhouettes of what used to be. Time stands still. Minutes speed past. Unaware we remain. A state of chaos. A need for peace. Trapped within our own fear. Lashing out at what we don’t know. The world turns on its axis, yet makes no forward progress. An endless spin… Read More Broken Not Bent
The moment I hear the familiar creak of that old front door, I am free. A weekend at the lake house is always the best therapy. Better than shopping or God forbid, laying on some quack’s couch, dredging up pain and suffering from my childhood. I love it most when I have it all… Read More The Inheritance
Love was abundant Hate hid in the dark Shadows of terror Stained hearts Beating amidst promising life Cut short by suicide Orchestrated performance On world stages Of heightened threat level Playing arenas where screams Echo instead of cheers Of celebration at a concert Music to their black souls Stripped from mothers’ arms In defense march… Read More Shadows of Terror
Her hands tremble as she smooths out the crumpled piece of lined yellow paper. She can barely make out the smeared blue ink. The words come out in broken whispers, “I can’t go on. My lips no longer form the battle cry I’ve summoned in years past. This world keeps shrinking and my disquiet holds me hostage. I’m a prisoner of… Read More The Note
