I love sunny days and large blue skies. The brightness and optimism of the unblemished firmament that stretches from horizon to horizon, and takes me back to my Northwestern...
The exquisite thing about aging is the reawakening of wide-eyed wonder. All the oohs and aahs of life seen through my own magical gaze. And not those of my children or...
Hey E Baby I was thinking about that Sunday morning Just after we bought the house It was November and the rain Was pelting on the window All dark and dreary outside So you put...
Write the stories you like to read. Make the music you like to listen to. Paint what you see with your heart not your eyes. Take pictures of the things that delight you. Weave...
The act of authentic writing is like performing open-heart surgery on yourself. Without anesthetic. You slice open your chest, rip apart your flesh, hack into your bones and pull...
Decades ago In another lifetime I fell in love With a beautiful young man. We were barely adults On the brink Of becoming All kinds of things Beyond what we were In that sliver of...
When I’m driving, The things I see in my peripheral vision frighten me. More than anything I see square on, Or right in front of my face. These are the bugaboos that catch me...
This morning While I was sitting here drinking coffee In the silent stillness and stifling solitude Of my writing space My mind drifted lazily Back To when I was a young woman And...
There’s this hill. I’ve mentioned it in my previous posts about running. It’s at the very end of my early morning run. The neighborhood is full of little hills, dips, tilts...
Running doesn’t come easy for me. The first few blocks are pure hell. Psyching myself to go for a run is a marathon in itself. Each new day is like starting over. Even...
