Cast your sorrow to the skies
Angst for angels to gather
Let the pieces
fall gently back
Blessed salvation for your tattered soul.
“Could she get a job?”
Roy appeared perplexed. “Why would she?”
Who does he think he is? Stella reached behind and slammed the door shut. It was better this than her raised voice echoing through the reception area. Turning, she walked toward the chair behind his desk. She eased into the leather and crossed her long legs.
“You need to suggest she get one.”
Seated in his chair, she felt dangerous, dark, and beautiful. Stella knew this was everything he coveted. For a brief moment, she reigned in all of her defiance and finery. Her manicured fingertips toyed with the tail of silk draped around her neck. She bit her lip.
If she was a bird, she’d be a wren. Small in scale, perfect in faith. Sometimes, even wrens find their wings are too heavy.
I could see she was weary, a shadow of her past. The light that had once shone from her eyes, now dimmed. Words failed her. She had emptied out a million little broken pieces. It was sad. She had been hurt so much, she accepted it.
Her voice, a mere whisper, spoke. “When will we understand? To hurt one is to hurt all. This is the fault in our stars. It is the simplest of truths; we are all connected.”
I loved her more in that moment: beaten down, raw, and still standing. She was the strongest woman I knew.
If you ever get lost in the dark
I will pull every last star from the sky
All to light your path
So to find your way
Back home to me
Some didn’t understand.
She preferred darkness. This was where she went to disappear.
That is where I found her.
The ticking of a clock on the wall was the only sound in the room. He was trapped like the dead fly positioned between the dusty glass and bulb.
I remember you
The one who forgot me
Write one perfect sentence, then another.
It was obvious. Jacquie was a resourceful woman. The girls’ outfits bragged of a mother with keen instincts, one who shopped the high end fabric rolls found in the discount bins. Clearly, Jacquie had a flair for design. Drapery toile on children and Voque details suggested an amateur nod to couture.
Your legacy is the love you give.
Someone I loved once said, “make beautiful memories.” When it comes down to it, our memories with loved ones sustain and wrap us when we’re numb. Like an internal compass, memories guide us home. We’re in this game of life, together.
To family, followers, and friends, near and far, I am grateful for your presence and love, for the memories we’ve made or have yet to make.
Happy Thanksgiving. Raise a glass to us. x