The turning leaves are enhanced by the dusting of white on the river bank. The leaves aren’t frosted in white, and the white bank isn’t covered with amber leaves.
The leaves and the snow bring out the beauty in each other.
__________
She offers to fill my calendar along with her own, and laughs when I say, “We’ll take a rain check on that one.” Continue reading →
She sits in the glow of the computer screen, wringing her hands. It’s late – kids are in bed. She’d put her fingers on the home row and type, but she doesn’t know what to say.
She doesn’t know how to help.
She reads their words and feels their anguish. She senses the tightness in their chests. She hears the worries that keep them from sleep.
The instinct to want to protect their babies runs deep.
There is power in their anger. The strength required to control their anger makes them far stronger than most. Continue reading →
Change feels like the steady slow creep to the crest of the roller coaster hill, the brief pause before the crazy descent and the exhilaration that comes from having the guts to go, without the throwing up after.
Change feels like the warmth coming from the wood stove after splitting and stacking the wood and cleaning the chimney – the warmth that comes from self-sufficiency and independence.
Change feels like that pair of jeans that fits your figure and makes you feel good about yourself, even if there are parts of you that you’d just as soon forget about.
Change feels like the time you had the courage to raise your hand because you knew the answer, having been called on, and being right.
Change feels like knowing something – down to your bones: the directions to your brother’s house in a city you visit once a year; the memorized recipe for brownies you make from scratch when that craving for chocolaty decadence takes over; the friend you can call at whatever hour because you both are always there for each other. Continue reading →
“Can I see you when I get out that way?”
She replied to his email – the one she shouldn’t have opened – with, “As friends.”
He didn’t like that answer. (Do guys ever like that answer?)
He waited to call, hoping she’d make the first move.
She didn’t. Continue reading →
You may be thinking that you need a prescription, but it could be that you need to drive a road that lazily winds around a mountain lake. Roll the windows down and sing to the Doobie Brothers.*
Kids don’t need DVD players or iPads if one of ’em has a fishing pole, the other has a floaty mattress for playing in the lake and they both have nets for catching minnows.
Moms don’t need laptops, internet connection or a day at the spa if they have a good friend to chat with and reservations for dinner.
The withdrawals from that lack of internet connection last about four hours. Fill the void with Cheetos and red wine. It’ll pass. Continue reading →
Grab a pen. We’re going to plan a party.
Really.
This’ll be fun.
What if you planned your life like you would plan the ultimate party?
Wait…. don’t tell me you hate planning parties. That’s probably because you think that you have to invite certain people, serve particular foods and drinks, provide a sparkling evening that will please everyone and clean up the mess when it’s over. Continue reading →
She walks in the door after a day of meetings, appointments, disappointments and challenges. Before she pours a glass of red, she puts on her favorite pair of jeans – the ones with the threadbare knees. The cotton has softened with many washings, and now the fabric covering her thighs resembles suede more than denim.
She sits on the couch with her legs curled under her. With each sip of wine, she mulls over the day. As she reviews the interactions she can’t help but think of how she felt during each exchange.
__________
The meeting with her supervisor left her feeling stiff and tense – the same way she feels when dressed for work in a crisply ironed blouse and business suit. There never seems to be room enough to stretch her arms or take a deep breath. A day spent in that suit is a day spent as someone else.
The lunch with her sister was every bit as uncomfortable as the expensive wool sweater her sister had given her last Christmas. The style didn’t fit her. The colors didn’t match anything in her closet. On the rare occasion that she wore the itchy cardigan, she was reminded of how disconnected she and her sister had always been. The scratchy texture of the wool equaled her sister’s insensitivity. Continue reading →
A good friend is a connection to life —
