Traces

Traces

    It started with a blustery day. Blustery days remind me of Winnie the Pooh, childhood comfort reading as satisfying to the soul as pot pie to the lips–tubby-little cubby-all-stuffed-with-fluff and all.  Cross-legged on the floor with the book in my...

Mother of all love

"It's not a contact sport" my behind. Thursday a song about unrequited love kept running through my head as I tried desperately to fly over traffic to rush my 16-year-old to the hospital after he broke his wrist in a soccer scrimmage.  Funny how a...

Pin It on Pinterest