blogger, grief, heart, humanity, life, love, old doors, tiny moments, whimsey, writing

About A Door

Tears slip behind doors. Slammed. Sorrow’s shelter from Storm. Love reigns behind doors. Quiet, stone still. A soft head against a shoulder. Doors close. Locked. Listen as our footsteps flee. Doors whisper, tell the stories of a life.   I’ve fallen hard for old doors. Chippy paint, cracked glass, hand-hewned architecture . Bespoke. ~ A […]

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beautiful heart, beautiful words, free verse, heart, love

I Remember

I remember you. A father and my rock “Let’s go,” you said. Long car rides, the songs we sang off-key. Rebels in the wind I remember.   I remember you. Reaching for the dial Slam up the volume Me. Switching the station to Jim Morrison’s lyrics Rebels in the wind I remember.   I remember […]

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memoir

For You

Overhead, dark clouds rip open. Raindrops slip from the car’s windowpane; I watch them disappear. The clouds cover the sky like gauze, softening a wound. Loss festers. Heaven’s tears spill forth as Angels witness an aching sadness that can only be found on earth. Today I uncrate grief. Yes, I miss you; wish you here, […]

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memoir

Memories

My grandfather had a green- thumb and passed it on. Growing up, we always had a beautiful garden filled with hedgerows, sweet jasmine, pansies, Cherry Blossom trees, and Japanese Maples. At night we sat outside and talked under a blanket of stars. One of our homes had a small pond complete with painted turtles (they […]

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amazon books, author, compassion, first place, heart, love, memoir, Newbery Medal Winner, reading, short story, writing, writing contest

Writing Contest Stories

I’ve been testing my wings.  Writer and Educator, Luanne, from the blog, Writer Site, recently hosted a writing contest.  The story entries will be posted on Luanne’s site, writersite.org  throughout the week.  My story, The Lady’s Coat, is posted today!  Please take some time to read the judged entries.  Writers can appreciate the process of writing and […]

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family, father, heart, love, memoir

It Is Always Winter

When I recall my father, it is always winter.   I’m not sure why that is.  Upon calling forth memory, I visualize his smiling face, then, a postcard-screened scene of the perfect winter appears.  Snow, blanketing the ground.  Frosty shades of blue, the softness of the scene, like peering through mohair.  Sunlight streams through the dancing […]

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