Tag: writing

  • February 13th

    February 13th

    Another cold week has set into my bones so deeply that this morning, when I went outside to start my car I thought it was warm at first. I went as far to tell my husband that he probably didn’t need to start the car then I checked the temperature and realized warmer to me…

  • Acceptance

    Acceptance

    Driving to work this morning I was struck by the simple beauty of the sunrise. I never seem able to capture the beauty, either in pictures or in words and for that I feel simultaneously sad and and all odds by what nature can provide. For some reason, that inability cause me to think about…

  • Monday the fourth

    Monday the fourth

    Another Monday morning rush; little hands, little faces, so many little things to do. I packed the night before, hoping it would help us arrive sooner at the door. In a way, it did, or would have except of course I forgot that Monday itself would likely continue to be busy. Although the lunches were…

  • January 31st Present

    January 31st Present

    I left my jacket in the car this afternoon when I returned to work. It felt strange, on the last day of what is traditionally the coldest month To be walking outside in a three-quarter length jacket and tank top, and yet I did. On my drive later that same day, the brown of last…

  • Sunshine and shadows

    Sunshine and shadows

    We’re born, we suffer, we die. Listening to 21st-century creative, a new podcast I discovered through a different one when another writer whose opinion I value mentioned it was one of their favorites. A story within a story within a story? Either way, an interview with a British journalist turned author put me into an…

  • Ode to the road

    Ode to the road

    Sometimes I think I live in my car from point a to point B no matter how far. The sound of the road repetitive and dull strangely is my time relax in its lull. No matter the distance I always enjoy whether by myself, Or with my girls and my boy The road is my…

  • Ode to the road

    Ode to the road

    Sometimes I think I live in my car from point a to point B no matter how far. The sound of the road repetitive and dull strangely is my time relax in its lull. No matter the distance I always enjoy whether by myself, Or with my girls and my boy The road is my…

  • Blue moon Monday

    Blue moon Monday

    They say it’s Blue Monday, the saddest day of the year. My eyes have been dragging all day long; I wonder if it could have something to do with that. More than likely it’s related to my lack of sleep over the past few nights. I should’ve slept, there was no reason why not, but…

  • Blue moon Monday

    Blue moon Monday

    They say it’s Blue Monday, the saddest day of the year. My eyes have been dragging all day long; I wonder if it could have something to do with that. More than likely it’s related to my lack of sleep over the past few nights. I should’ve slept, there was no reason why not, but…

  • Little cat feet

    Little cat feet

    Carl Sandburg was the one who said, “The fog rolls in on little cat feet.” Every time the fog covers the earth, I’m reminded of his words. It’s soft, silent, and yet immovable. It coats the world with mystery, makes me wonder if this is what it’s like, to carve out moments alone, unbothered by…