life
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The strange, tender timing of the things that can leave a mark… Coincidence is a funny little word for something that can feel anything but little. It means the surprising things that happen at the same time by chance, with no planning and no obvious connection. They just happen. Sometimes we hardly notice them. Sometimes…
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Rambling on through a broken heart about fictional worlds and losing the light in a world that is growing darker day by day… There is something wonderfully tempting about the idea of living inside a fictional world. Who wouldn’t want to step through a wardrobe, traverse a secret entrance behind fireplace, board a starship, wander…
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Rambling on about a time in history I would like to be there for…| If I could go back and visit one account of history, I would not choose a moment of celebration alone. I would choose a moment wrapped in grief, exhaustion, hope, and fear: the end of World War II and the gathering…
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Do you ever spend time daydreaming? I do… Sometimes more time than I should or care to admit. This morning again I perused my poetry Journal. Sharing words seems to be what I want to do today too. Do you… Do you ever wonder just where you’re headed some days,wondering what will come as you just…
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Rambling on about being inked, scars, and the stories our bodies keep… I have toyed with the idea of getting a tattoo for as long as I can remember. I have drawn designs, saved ideas, studied other people’s ink in grocery store lines and parking lots, and wondered, sometimes kindly, sometimes nosily, what made them…
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While I do not share my poetry often here, rarely, to be exact. I don’t know why. It was how I started writing. I wrote to heal, and to clear my mind from the clutter of life. I wrote through my happiness, my memories, and yes… My grief. So, I have been nudged today because…
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A Southern woman’s honest look back at love, memory, and the one who stayed in her heart. When I first read the question, “How did you meet your significant other?” I expected my mind to answer politely, like a well-trained Southern woman at a church supper. Instead, it took off down a dirt road somewhere…
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A Southern reflection on gratitude, gathering, and the complicated country I still love Ask me what cultural traditions I love about my country, and my heart answers before my head can get its shoes on. It says Sunday dinner. It says Thanksgiving. It says the Fourth of July, family recipes, front-porch stories, children running in…
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What day would I relive from my past if I could choose just one? My first thought was, absolutely not yesterday. Yesterday can stay right where it is, thank you very much. There I was, working at a motel in the dark, in hundred-degree heat, with no air conditioning, no lights, and no real desire…
Dirt Road Therapy 