I’m sitting on my front porch, rocking in the chair, listening to the birds chirp as I breathe in the moist morning air at 6 a.m. The sun is out, it’s already 74 degrees, and the humidity glistens on the grateful flowers. Continue reading
Waterlogue
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
