I will, on occasion, contribute an original essay to some of my favorite blogs and websites. One of my very favorites, Grown & Flown is tailored to parents who are, much like myself, parenting young adults. About a year ago, I contributed a very tender piece about my son, my prodigal as I so lovingly call…
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Resting on the roots of an old oak, I leaned back against its knotted trunk to consider the passing of time. I felt, in those moments of nostalgia, a small resurgence of my five-year-old self…a quiet little warrior of a girl, reminding me of who I was before time told me otherwise. My children, no…
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For the adolescents in my nest everything seems too big. There is no context or perspective, only borderless heartache and unrestrained delight. Through the lens of midlife, I understand fully that experience will eventually come to their rescue, but for now there are only extremes. I have experienced undeniable seasons of both wildness and settledness,…
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There are holes in my walls, rounded fist sized holes, not an easy admission for one who so owns the preference of order and perfection. I can recall in those burgeoning first weeks of motherhood, being so off put by the absolute chaos created by the nine pound cherub who had wrenched from my hands…
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Life is monumentally full, and there are innumerable justifications for my neglect of pen and paper. Life is shifting and balance has been disrupted by the equally winsome and loathsome attributes of adolescence that reign unfettered in my home. My pursuit of higher education, though edifying to my soul, requires of me a focus and…
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For as long as my humanity allows for memory, I recall feeling out of step. A round peg in a square hole so to speak, gravitating to the grey in a black and white world, forged in the crucible of different. Even into early adulthood, the feeling was undefinable. There was a certain dissonance between…
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My day to day life is directed quite stringently by a calendar. This is not by choice. My nature, my penchant for the creative, longs simply for a blank page, an expectant easel or a vacant stage, but reality keeps me tethered to a complicated calendar life, color coded, blocked and full of busy. Each…
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As I rounded the corner my ears stilled to the faint sound of a child’s voice from within the small bathroom to the left of the stairwell. It was muffled by the steady rush of water, the indication of a shower in progress, but it was audible nonetheless. I stopped hesitantly and tightened my grip…
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Keith loved the weather. He could innately discern the distant mutter of an approaching storm and his senses were inexplicably keen to the faint suggestion of rain in a misfit breeze. He would often, with the expectancy of a child on Christmas morning, stand outside, his face gently turned upward, watching the icy grey sky….
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There are things my heart and mind will never be in concert over. The death of someone I loved is one of those things. Human nature can be so contrary. How do I grieve for a man who in life found a million ways to both infuriate and endear? The anniversary date of Keith’s passing…
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