He captured my heart. There was a sweetness to him, a calm that was mysterious in some way. I felt like we had known each other before. Perhaps in a past life we had been lovers, in Rome or Paris, somewhere romantic where our love had been extinguished by prejudice or pride.
The Forgotten Ones
I want to thank my staff who have come into work during this second round of Covid-19. Who knows how many more we will have to battle, but it seems to get easier as we go on, and less scary, thanks to the vaccinations.
Heart’s Desire
Life is so sweet. There is so much to do and, it seems, so little time. As I age, time slips by so quickly; it’s almost frightening. Will I ever get to do the things I want to do before I die? Will I see my grandchildren and watch them grow?
The Cormorants
I have been a fool, it seems, living a lie instead of speaking the truth. Instead of defending the rights and the freedoms of people on the street of my hometown, I went away and fought. What would it have been like if I’d had the courage to speak to her, to Hannah?
Bruised and Battered: The Perils of Being a Groupie
It was like being in boot camp for old rockers, trying to keep up with her. And just like Penny Lane in the movie, Al seemed to know her way around the place.
Grateful
Their stories are unique, yet share one commonality: their lives were taken unexpectedly by a virus. It saddens me to think about how those stories may have ended, that they may have been alone in nursing homes or hospitals, without their loved ones by their side holding their hand or kissing their cheek.
This Is It?
I believe the universe was preparing me for something – the pivotal moment when the oncologist would tell us, many months later, that the cancer was back and had spread to other organs in my husband’s body.
Han
Blair clutches the photo of her husband and two children. The edges are bent and out of shape; worn and damaged. The photo is with her always, like a friend, a companion. She studies the photo with concentration, as though she could bring them back to her.
Arthur
He sat down in his favorite chair, the one with the tall back and the arm rests. He picked up the latest Larry McMurtry book off the side table, pulled out his glasses from his shirt pocket and started to read. He could read through anything: wars, famine or feasts.
The Road We Choose
We are hopeful though, hopeful that we will find a way to drive down this road without all the obstacles and signposts that keep us distracted from the real issues at hand. It never ends, does it? It will go on forever and we will be lucky to have been a part of it; part of the road less travelled.
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