Today I sent a card to a darling girl. She is the daughter of my friend and she made the brave choice to reveal the suicidal ideation she was experiencing, and get help. The zip code I wrote on the envelope is not of her hometown, or in her county, or even the next...
I tried not to hobble as I made my way to the kitchen. Hobbling did not fit in with the fantasy I was trying to maintain during my trip: living as a Parisian woman in my charming apartment two blocks from the Seine. I ignored my sore feet which had been carrying me...
The benches welcomed me with cushioned comfort; the hush invited a loosening of neck and shoulders. A handful of other visitors spoke in low tones, if at all. I spent a few minutes on each bench, before getting up for close examination, and then a move to the next...
My hand drifts to the mug next to me, fingers curling around the warm rough pottery. My third cup. Where else could I sit and muse over coffee all morning? This place- its quiet, isolation, lack of agenda but fulness of life- I could never have imagined it. The cabin...
Leaning back in the rocking chair, I let the sun warm the side of my face. A spider web glints delicately between the birdhouse and one of the sturdy cedar posts supporting the porch of the cabin. I’ve come out to escape the heat inside. The wood stove has done a...
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