~ draft scene

Early morning sunlight crept in through the open window and kissed her on the shoulder.

He watched her sleep. Studied each soft inhale and exhale of  breath, traced a lock  of hair across the pillowcase.  The hair she refused to cut. Her signature, a self-styled rebellion against time and fashion mores.

Light crept across the bed, unveiling her face in real- time. She was his June with December’s eyes. He touched the scar beneath her chin and counted each freckle, long faded.

Time had caught him by surprise; he’d not seen himself growing older. Certainly, he had not seen her coming. It wasn’t supposed to play out this way. Now all he wanted  was to absorb her into oblivion.

Life could be a lonely act. How fast it goes. As seasons changed, he’d buried his father, then his mother, and cheated on his wives. Like the tease of spring, she  had tip- toed into his life, the odds stacked against her.

He’d warned. ” I carry a full bag.”

“Unpack,” she said.

Their future was uncertain. He knew this truth: she was hard to crush.




If only I could bring you back,

start you over.


I’d tell you: ‘worth’ isn’t a tailored suit, a fancy car, or the next big deal.


It’s about the ones who sit with you in the dark,

count stars, and hear you in your silence.


It’s about the ones who find you, dust you off, and blast the radio in your car.

~ Car Rides



Pay attention, darling.

Pause in the slightest movements of the universe, the subtle nuances, the unexplained happenings that you call, “lose threads.”  Like a ball of tangled yarn, these very moments twist and turn, specific to you, alone.

Pay attention, darling.

Stand brave and alone at the crossroad of life. Stay unflinching on the page. Allow the truth of time to heal you. When tears fall like rain, know that the seeds of joy awaken to see you smile again.


Known as Athena, she holds a vessel of ancient wisdom, beyond that which we could ever know. Trust her vision for you.

Pay attention, darling.

Trust the journey you’re on

As she knits the story of a beautiful life.



The Snow Day

We sit together at the table and that is enough for us.  She holds her tattered blanket to her cheek.  The kitchen is cold, winter clings to the world outside the window.  Quiet surrounds the space as we imagine our day together.  It is a blank slate; there are no pressing commitments to keep.   It is ours to unfold and explore as we choose.

First, waffles for breakfast! Canadian Maple Syrup drizzled over the squares, the sweet taste, divine!  Glasses of orange juice to wash down the warm, soft, syrupy mixture, black coffee for me.  Blueberries fill a bowl. We exchange a glance and smile.  Our quiet, morning world is perfect.

She tells me this story.

“Last night I prayed for snow, so much that I would have to stay with you.”

I tell her that I prayed for snow too.  So much that I could keep her!  We would ignore the responsibilities of the coming days for just a brief while.

The flakes tumble-down from the heavens above as if to answer our prayers.  She gazes out the window and beholds the magical sight, nature’s winter encore. The snowflakes dance and twirl bespoke for one so innocent, so full of belief and dreams.

Bedecked in a cozy striped knit scarf and furry mittens, she twirls on the grass, arms outstretched to hug the gift scattered down from the heavens.  Snowflakes kiss her cheeks, land upon her small mittened hand.  An image of a tiny ballerina in an opened jewel box comes to mind.  Enchanted, she spins to a fairy’s beat.  For a brief time, nature will oblige. Winter’s charms and the gentle one play together.  A little snowman sits under the Maple Tree, a reminder of the moments spent within this fantasy snow globe.

We warm up inside the house and watch the snowflakes fall.

“Snowflakes are so beautiful,” she sighs.

“I wish they could fall forever.”

Do you want to build a snowman?
Do you want to build a snowman?