What have you been doing all morning?
Well, um, I’ve been busy.
With what?
I woke up late, I admit. Almost 5:30 a.m. But for the next 15 minutes I stretched my body… and my mind.
What do you mean? Continue reading
Author: roughwighting
What the Wind Blew In
We’ve been honoring the anniversary of our dog’s passing. Four years ago, Henry let us know it was time for him to go. My guy and I carried him into our vet’s office, which looked more like a home than a business.
In one of the small rooms we placed our beloved Golden on the soft rug, sitting with Henry as we petted him into pure peace. At his last breath, the vet cried softly with us, and I confess, I continued to pet him for another 30 minutes. Continue reading
The Princess of Endoplactum
My name is Pamela, and I am a middle-aged woman.
I’m not always middle-aged, and I’m not always a woman.
I never told my family this, but once, long ago and yet still now (on the time spectrum that surrounds us, even though most refuse to see it), I am the princess of an enchanted island. Continue reading
ABC Thriller
Alyson jumped over the wall. But I knew better.
Carefully, I unlatched the lock at the nearby gate.
“Decidedly easier,” I mumbled to myself. Even though Alyson was lying on the ground moaning, I kept walking. Frankly, my best friend was a bit of an actress, and I’d learned over the years to ignore her drama.
Gathering courage, I set my shoulders back and forged ahead. Continue reading
Driving with the Top Down
In honor of my mom’s 94th birthday on February 28, I’m dedicating this post to her,
I am here again, traveling along the same flat road, watching the tall green maples and oaks turn to scrubby, smaller bush and pine. What is it about my primordial need to return to the ocean – the Atlantic Ocean – every year?
As I breathe in the hot humid New Jersey air, a mixture of dirt, gas, grass, asphalt and salt water, I wonder if it’s just a childhood memory that needs to be rewritten and retold yearly. After all, as a child . . .
“Why is he traveling so closely behind you? How fast are you going?” my mother interrupts my slow, careful thoughts. Continue reading
roughwighting 