We moved it all this weekend...the trailer, the old van body, and all the stuff in the storage shed, the bits and dabs of a busy, productive life left forgotten as productivity gave way to reflection. What a strange feeling it was placing all the Dad-parts into a box for donation...two prosthetic right legs, rarely used, crutches with the arm bars cushioned with towels and covered in duct tape, a hearing aid. We packed them next to the Mom-bits...fabric scraps, skeins of forgotten yarn and… Continue

I've been away a long, long time...and am delighted to find all you talented writers still here. Here's a six-pack of my own to celebrate being back. Comments and suggestions are welcome...and I promise I'll be a more regular visitor and participant from now on. I've missed your talent! Continue

He was staring at the completed form onscreen, still sputtering, "But four weeks? Are you sure we can affor..." when she silenced him with her left hand on his shoulder and her right hand on top of his, guiding the mouse to click the Submit button.



"It will be fine," she said, adding, "Things really are different now."



He sighed and squeezed her hand in an unspoken, "Ok...I trust you," and after two months of planning, packing, and pouring over ports of call they boarded a… Continue

Six is flannel pajamas and cereal on the front end, spaghetti straps and cocktails on the back. Six is the number of one, half dozen of another. Six is a gap-toothed smile taken on the first day of big school, the only photo that survived the fire in '42. Six is the number of hours Lelar Mae labored to bring her eldest son into the world and the number of grandsons who carried her casket. Six is big ideas, deep thoughts, beginnings and endings squeezed into an impossibly small container. Six is… Continue