The first time I recognized the power of love, I was 4 years old.
The revelation began in the morning, when my mom sent me off to the backyard to play in the sandbox, as she often did.
I hated the sandbox. Continue reading
Author: roughwighting
SNAP Chat
Because of me, my granddaughter almost loses a couple of fingers.
We’re driving down a typical New England country road, bracketed with August-green swaying trees. Hawks swing on the tops of those trees, squawking loudly.
To our right is an almost-hidden river where kayakers slowly swing their oars. To our left is dense wood filled with squirrels and woodchucks and chirping sparrows.
“Madre, watch out!” Sophie yells. I ram my foot on the brake. Continue reading
PUTTERING
To Sleep…Perchance, to Dream
I’m a whoo-whoo kind of person.
Most people who know me either find that trait endearing or ignorant, fascinating or a facet to ignore.
My guy tries his best to ignore the times I fly off to another (invisible) realm.
He’s an engineer. He believes in scientific cause and effect. Continue reading
The Hand Jive
I don’t talk with my hands.
Why should I? I’m a writer and a lover of words. No hand expressions are needed if the words are right when talking about writing.
Oh, how wrong I am. Continue reading
roughwighting 