Part I and Part II In 6th grade I joined the basketball team. The girls’ team. I couldn’t play because I was a grade too young. So I acted as the team “manager” and participated in every practice and attended every game. Martha was… Continue Reading “Perspective Part III”
A little something written with youngsters in mind. Woop there it is! Wiggle, waddle, widdle, woo, with one blue eye and a giant grin, the Wild Woops are back again. They sing, they dance, they jump, they play. They stay up all night and… Continue Reading “Wild Woops”
I love you with my whole heart. I love you with my whole brain. I love you with my whole body. And, I’ll always love you just the same. I’ll love you forever more Every day, every hour, every minute, every second from 1… Continue Reading “Love For You”
Part I We won. It’s just a conference game and it’s early in the season. But a W is a W. I’m the starting kicker on the varsity football team. And I’m the only girl. As the guys make their way to the locker… Continue Reading “Perspective Part II”
It started when I was five. This feeling that I was always watching myself as I lived. Walking, talking, running, playing, eating, drinking, sleeping. I see myself doing it all. I’m in the moment, I’m there in reality, and yet, I am also somewhere… Continue Reading “Perspective A short story Part I”
Gather round, the voices, do you hear that sound? The glorious chorus from above. The sky, atop the ground. Heaven and earth. Each planet. Every star. The sound of life. Hearts beating, souls pleading, eyes seeing, lips competing. Gather ‘round the loop, that never-ending… Continue Reading “The Circle: A Poem”
Only a chair can hold you like a cuddle; sitting, rocking, relaxing, spooning in a manufactured embrace. Holding, feeling, loving and wanting; needing that cushion for comfort but more importantly, stability. To feel weightless yet weighted. To know something is there to catch and… Continue Reading “Sitting”
There was something she wanted to say, But she wasn’t sure how to say it in the right way. Should she be open and honest, even if it hurts? Should she keep it all inside, until out it bursts? Should she whisper it only,… Continue Reading “There was Something She Wanted to Say: A Poem”
There’s something relaxing and almost nostalgic about wrapping your hands around a warm mug and looping your fingers through the handle.
I am a working mom; both in the traditional sense of the word work and in the mom-role of work.