When I was growing up, my mom often held my hands in hers. She would carefully size my palms against hers and remark how quickly I was growing. She would trace my fingers and marveled at how long they were. They would be prettier than hers, she was convinced. Little did she know then, no other hands could be more beautiful than hers. To me.Read More »
“A true friend holds us lovingly accountable to our own ideals, but is also able to forgive, over and over, the ways in which we fall short of them and can assure us that we are more than our stumbles, that we are shaped by them but not defined by them, that we will survive […]
The room is now empty, the bed half made
An empty shampoo bottle lies forlorn on the floor
The gray ottoman returned to its quiet empty corner
Where your black luggage had recently sat in a bloated slump, half unzippedRead More »
My Li'l Place 