Right. It’s Sunday night—the time I used to sit down to write and share the latest incident with Dad for my blog Sundays with Dad. I mean, three years of that created a bit of a ritual. Now, even though Dad’s not around anymore, it doesn’t mean a ritual disappears. In fact, I find, I just need to [...]
Month: November 2016
The Place I Love to Go
In the chill of the air I pull my shoulders up and duck my chin under the thickness of the scarf wrapped around my neck. I notice a silver hair--it's my mother's scarf. I also notice my sight has retreated into my thoughts and instead of enjoying beauty on the shore and fresh air, I'm [...]
Remembering the Corn Story
One Thanksgiving years ago, my dad read a story about some kernels of corn in his Reader’s Digest. He pointed it out to me and shared the magazine but, taking little interest in the subject matter, I didn’t read it. I'm sure my thoughts were on more important things at the time, like what I would wear for the Holiday [...]
Full Moon
I thought I'd let too much of the afternoon get away from me. I had wanted to take a walk. I shut the door behind me as the sun was going under, the wind changed direction off the lake within a couple blocks, and I was sorry I hadn't worn an extra layer. I picked [...]
Imperfectly Perfect?
Sunday night, a good mystery, a fire in the fireplace...I stare at the flames and think of cooking--both need the right balance of timing, heat and attention. I hadn't planned a dinner party in a while. Making plans is not my preferred way of doing things. I like letting the day unfold with all its unexpectedness and if a meal [...]
Words Whispered
We whisper words The day's begun We bow our heads Before the sun Bring Power Bring Majesty To this earth So within all life There is rebirth We will not doubt Your Presence still But lift our eyes Up to the hill Send down Your Grace And teach us Love Keep our eyes focused On [...]
Whiff of Lavender
It's a fall morning, golden and mild, much like the day had been five years ago. My eyes were just opening up to it as I lay still and alone with the memory, allowing my senses to respond to it, when the whiff of lavender passed over me. I took it in and noticed my arms [...]
Not According to Plan 