Thank God Things are Quiet
Thank God things are quiet. I guess it’s medication time everywhere in the hospital, the same way it can be Christmas everywhere in the world.
Writer’s Choice
The Hardest Question for a Writer
…attempting to find the answer to “what do you write about” is quite possibly the most frustrating pursuit for me. I sometimes see other writers replying to this…
Modern Medical Miracles
Our emotions are raw Kept tightly wrapped We talk of friends, the weather Never, what if………… Waiting this time is like watching for a birth
Sibling Madness
It was unusual for Aaron to call so I always answered the phone when he did. These conversations were cerebral and sometimes hard to follow…
Florence, By Any Other Name
My Gran was born Florence –Imagine a baby in the 1920s With such a serious name–Burdensome, so she went by another But we never forget…
My Purple
I often take pride in the testimony that I never wore dresses as a kid. But that’s a lie. At age 5 I wore one dress – a single dress and that dress only.
What I Promised to Do
I’m trying to get into our new safe deposit box, but I haven’t brought the key with me. “Can’t you open it with yours?” I ask. She gives me a quizzical look.
Sunday Night Shoe Shine
As a child, any time I got to spend with Dad amounted to the thumb space at the toe of a tight shoe. Dad was a general handyman in the surrounding neighborhoods…
What the Mirror Says
I saw my father in the mirror. The eyes within the glass— The same shade as an Oak cascaded in moss— Are an uncanny reflection of his own.