My mother-in-law, Reba, was a pear-shaped Italian-American woman who was short on legs and long on patience. She wielded a wooden spoon with the skill of Rachel Ray, one of her favorite TV chefs, or an old-fashioned school matron depending on who was hungry or who needed a quick redirect.
Mom asked me to write her obituary. Yes, she’s still living, and yes, it seems like a strange request. But as a writer, this isn’t new. In addition to the many obits I wrote as a journalism student, I’ve written two for loved ones. This ensures three things: 1) My loved one will not beContinue reading “Mom”
No one ever told you you couldn’t. What wings that must give you! To know you can never fail. To trust that if you do if you fall from the sky someone – or something – will catch you. Maybe, I wonder, do you ever think, “I can’t.” ? You do for you. What makesContinue reading “Flying”
I nearly blew it up. I was down, deep in the depths, where the water is black and dank. Heavy with regret. And I couldn’t find my way up. Kicking and fighting — sinking lower and lower. And then I came up. Not in one forceful push to the surface, filling my lungs with air and spittingContinue reading “Drowning”
Perspective at 35,000 feet. Of life lived, living and unlived, opportunities and ideas that play hide and seek like mountains dancing between the clouds of friendships and love. Of lives played out in hours, days and years, related and consumed in gulps. And the hours, days and years go on until they stop. And theContinue reading “Above”