Amy didn’t know how to tell him.
They’d been dating almost seven months. In September, at month two, she wondered if he was the one.
But something held Amy back. Continue reading
Amy didn’t know how to tell him.
They’d been dating almost seven months. In September, at month two, she wondered if he was the one.
But something held Amy back. Continue reading
As he drones on and on about the meteorological reasons the clouds are forming heavy and dark above our heads, I smile secretly.
In high school, the nerdy boys – the ones who wore thick glasses and crewcuts and got all A’s in science, math, and astronomy – congregated around me.
I was horrified. Continue reading
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
Sometimes I wonder if souls can shatter, despite their superb strength.
As I drive the seven hours to my mom’s facility where she is suffering from end-stage dementia, my heart beats fast and fills up with pale blue, silky pink emotions. At 6:30 a.m. I’ve been driving for over an hour. The sun begins its rosy ascent over the paved hard highway, and I’m lulled by the soft snores of my daughter in the passenger seat and my two young grandsons in the back seat, covered from chin to toe in soft flannel blankets. Continue reading
I dream romance, read romance, believe in the power of romance.
Even though I’m as single as they come.
Yup, 40 and never been married.
Forty, and I haven’t had one romantic moment in my life.
Or, at least, not romantic (enough) for me. Continue reading