Although this post may sound a bit fanciful, or fantastical, or even impossible, it’s 100% true.
Almost 18 months ago, on a cold and snowy January morning, my 10-year-old grandson played Monopoly with me for 2 ½ hours.
That’s not the fantastical part. 
Immediately after, grandson Neville and I baked his favorite cookies: Stickeydoodles (originally called Snickerdoodles but Neville changed the name for reasons you can guess).
That’s not the fanciful part. Continue reading
My Summer Zen story began as a prompt to my creative writing students: “Write a story that includes the line: ‘I wish I could stay here forever.’ Each writer sunk into the memory of a ‘perfect’ day. But as I wrote my story, I realized that we all could find a perfect moment in every day.
Oh, and the header photo happened this past week – eight little turkey babies (poults) on our deck railing. I think Turkey Mama was having a perfect moment.
As lavender dusk approaches, walk me into the house, put a little music on– Rosemary Clooney, Enya, Vivaldi, the Beatles Rubber Soul– and let the fresh early-summer air meander through the open window. Yes, I’m beginning to get there. Continue reading
I’d never flown by tub before. Usually, I take off on my own. Well, almost on my own.
The first time I realized I had this capability was when I was 3 years old. I woke up in the middle of a full-moon night and saw a flickering being fluttering above me. Immediately I knew her – my little angel.
I called her Sweetie. Continue reading
“What do you think it is?” my brother Jack asks. He’s in the middle of a 4-mile run even though he’s 68, his knees ache, and he biked 20 miles the day before with friends a decade younger.
I shrug, then take his question seriously. After all, I drove seven hours to visit my brother and his wife, and after perfunctory hellos, Jack takes off for a run and I begin a three-mile walk. Jack and I bump into each other a mile from his home; he pants while he asks the question. Continue reading
It all started with a gift.
Last year when we visited our son in CA, he was horrified that his dad, my guy, still refused to use a suitcase with wheels.
“Real men carry their bags,” my guy declared. Continue reading
roughwighting 