I’m a visual person and so grateful for the gift of sight. Something happened recently that served as an exquisite reminder of what a wonder it is to be able to see. I mean...
This morning I woke up. Thank God. As I was making the bed I thought about my plans for the day. Making a cup of cinnamon coffee. Writing my blog. Banking with E. Shoe...
I have regrets. Probably more than I care to admit, or face. I’m not one of those people who boldly declare, “I regret nothing.” I don’t necessarily wallow in them...
As far back as I can remember, I wrote. Private young-girl thoughts in secret diaries, then poetry filled with teenage angst and dark poetry peppered with profanity. I wrote daily letters to God in Hilroy notebooks, short stories and poems for kids, sad country songs, and raw truth-telling stories about life growing up in a blue-collar neighbourhood in Northwestern Ontario. These are those stories and poems.
