He wanted to know how many hours of ‘juice” I had on my laptop before needing to plug in, a friendly kind of question. Recovering from a recent stroke, my compatriot’s steps were tentative and safe, considering his new reality. Hie wife or partner stayed close and vigilant. We were in Starbucks, although it was… Continue reading More Than a Bargain
It’s an interesting thing, becoming a widow and feeling everything about your physical self, shift. I remember walking through the grocery store, when Alan was sick, gathering up edibles in the form of pudding and things that were white or clear. For several months after he died, I wondered if anyone noticed I was now… Continue reading Dreaming of Chocolate Pudding
"WHAT THE LIVING DO" poem by Marie Howe Johnny, the kitchen sink has been clogged for days, some utensil probably fell down there. And the Drano won't work but smells dangerous, and the crusty dishes have piled up waiting for the plumber I still haven't called. This is the everyday we spoke of. It's winter… Continue reading Beauty…
These past few years have been draining for all of us, in ways that are still being calculated. When Life has had its way with you in other ways, it can be even more confusing, evaluating what came first, the chicken or the egg, so to speak. The feelings of isolation that continue because of… Continue reading Covid, Grief or is it Me?
Stepping into subliminal space I no longer fathom futures made up of heaven and days too vast to number too slim to calculate I think of you and wonder about liminal space and are angels meant to date? No questions were ever answered satisfactorily enough even though I asked often enough and now I can’t… Continue reading Worthy
Returning, One of my most recent revelations is how some things have remained the same. Oh, I don’t mean the same after Alan’s death because everything has pretty much changed, in that regard. But the realization that in some ways I’m still the girl, who was on my own back in the early 70’s. The… Continue reading Returning