dailyprompt
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If I had to be an animal for exactly one week—not forever, not for tax reasons, just one weird magical trial period—I would absolutely be an otter. Not a lion. Not an eagle. Not one of those majestic horses in perfume commercials. An otter. Why? Because otters seem like they have cracked the code to…
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I have lived long enough to remember when “the computer” was a mysterious box people spoke of with either reverence or suspicion, depending on whether it had just made their work easier or eaten three hours of typing. I have watched technology arrive in this world like a baby, adorable, noisy, impossible to ignore, and…
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If we’re talking about the book I’ve read most often, I suppose I’ll have to hop aboard the Bible train. Toot toot, spiritually speaking. It has been read to me, taught to me, studied by me, questioned by me, and—on more than one occasion—stared at by me while I tried to figure out what life…
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When I was young, learning was simply what we did. We went to school. We went to Sunday school. We learned lessons from our parents, our grandparents, our neighbors, and—whether we were ready for it or not—society itself. Back then, learning came with sharpened pencils, church shoes, spelling tests, Bible verses, dinner-table manners, and the…
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I have developed many habits over my lifetime, some noble, some questionable, and a few that probably deserve their own apology letter. Some have fallen by the wayside, some are still hanging on like loyal little life rafts, and others will surely show up in the future—because apparently, I am still under construction even at…
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I sat with the phrase “the hard years” this morning longer than I expected. At first, I thought surely I could point to one clean chapter, one obvious stretch of time, one neatly labeled season where life looked me square in the face and said, “Well, bless your heart, let’s see what you’re made of.”…
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Sequels are tricky little creatures. Sometimes they arrive like an invited guest bearing dessert, and sometimes they show up unannounced, wearing muddy boots, asking where the snacks are. The question I am pondering today is, who gets to decide whether a book deserves—or even needs—a sequel? My answer is simple… the writer does. The author.…
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When I think of villains I have known since childhood, the Wicked Witch of the West flies in on her broom almost immediately. She is dramatic, loud, green, and apparently has never once considered taking a deep breath before making a decision. But the older I get, the more I have to admit something uncomfortable:…
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If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be? That sounds like such a simple question, doesn’t it? The kind you might answer over coffee, or while staring out a window, or while scrolling through photos of places where the grass is suspiciously green and nobody ever seems to have laundry piled…
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Let’s talk about chaos. Not the movie-trailer kind with fireballs and dramatic music, but the everyday kind. Like when the alarm doesn’t go off, the dog throws up on the rug, unexpected bills arrive, or when life looks you directly in the eye and says, “Hope you are ready for this.” We all get those…
Dirt Road Therapy 