remembering

sometimes my mind grabs for you, trying to remember, trying to believe that you were real, that you were ever here with me in flesh and bone and blood. and when i get still and quiet and think about you I see your eyes, big and dark with heavy eye makeup that made you look …

On being a writer

i read somewhere that you know you’re a writer if you can’t help but write. If you must write, then you know you are among those word-crafters, those story-spinners, those who take us somewhere other than ourselves into a world of beauty, pain, hope and sometimes grotesque horror and salvation. You know you’re a writer …

because i get to

Summer is a wasteland. A floating myriad of lost hours and extra daylight. We make a point of doing nothing on purpose around my house in the summer, just to balance out all the "have to's" of the school season. It is the way I do it, which doesn't say much for the way it …

Define Me! Define Me! no, but really.

guitarsallie. maybe it is the girl in the picture, clutching her brand new Taylor, with all the hope and passion in her heart that her bleeding heart songs would change the world. or maybe just that one person that showed up at the coffee shop last Friday night - October 1995. but i don't feel like that girl at all anymore.

The woes of a pissed off perfectionist

I looked my 11 year old daughter in her big round, brown eyes. I had called her into the kitchen where I was cooking supper, because i suddenly realized I had said a horrible thing to her and I had to make it right. In those big, beautiful tender eyes I saw fear and dread. I had done that. I had put that dread and fear in her heart that came spilling out of her eyes. She stood there timidly, waiting to hear what I wanted to say and my heart broke a little inside my chest.