I call him, sucking in my breath and biting my tongue so I won’t cry.
He hates emotion.
But he loves me. I know that. As long as I don’t cry. Continue reading
I call him, sucking in my breath and biting my tongue so I won’t cry.
He hates emotion.
But he loves me. I know that. As long as I don’t cry. Continue reading
Two weeks ago, my neighbor Missy dropped off her parrot JOJO at my house and raced off to visit her ailing father in Florida.
At the time, JoJo, an ancient Psittacine, prophesized that Missy’s dad would die.
JoJo was right. (Parrot Plot Points)
“Pam, I can’t tell you how grateful I am that you’ll take JoJo.” Missy said, appearing at my front door holding a large, covered birdcage with an elaborate gold handle at the top.
“Well, I don’t know much about parrots, but I’ve certainly heard a lot about JoJo. And, um, most of our friends warned me not to help you. I don’t understand why. You said JoJo is easy.”
I’m a writer. And an author. A reluctantly published author. I’m disappointed with myself in that way. If I wasn’t reluctant to publish, I’d do it more. If I wasn’t reluctant to publish, I’d shout to the world that I love to write stores. If I wasn’t reluctant to publish, I’d share my stories far and wide. Continue reading
This is what I dislike about aging.
My days are shorter.
I don’t mean my life ahead is shorter, although of course it is. I try not to think about that, but now that you mention it, yikes, yes. Do I have 10 more years, possibly 15 more years before I’m totally decrepit? Continue reading