Calling Mom
Sleigh bells ring, are you listening? Houses decked out with sparkly lights, framing trees shimmering through living room windows . . . ‘Tis the season. I can almost taste Mom’s homemade almond roca, peanut brittle or fudge. Mmm . . . This time of year, I especially miss my mom. Truthfully, I remember only a handful of times during our lives that we didn’t spend Christmas together, so I suppose it’s natural to feel a void. If we can’t be together, I wish I might at least call her up to hear her voice, but sadly acknowledge this possibility disappeared with her passing ten years ago. Perhaps I should have…
Two Notes To Self
It’s been two years now since a young man came to our front door on a Saturday afternoon to ask if it would be okay if he stood on our stencil-painted brick steps to propose to his girlfriend the following weekend (read Huff Post story here). Steps are steps, right? Well, maybe not. What appeared as a series of steps to my husband and me had transformed into a magical destination for someone else. Perception. Imagination. What one person perceives as utilitarian — a means to move from here to there — another person imagines as a work of art, worthy to be the stage for the most important question he’s ever…
Finding My Tribe
Aren’t you curious to know more? Why do you find this boring? If you could peer into my brain, you might observe these questions bouncing around. I remember being admonished as a child for acting “too inquisitive” or alternately, “too sensitive.” As an adult I’m sometimes told that, in conversations, I either give too many details or ask for too many details, depending on whether I’m telling the story or listening to one. Or worse, I confess to interrupting someone else’s story (my husband) to add more details when I don’t feel he’s imparting enough information. Okay, so I like details! Watching movies, it’s not uncommon for me to be…
Author | Adventurer | Advocate
