Posts

Adjustments

I finished the book yesterday, the one given to me by a friend, the one she didn’t want to give me, but God kept at her until she reluctantly, fearfully obeyed. I understand why her reluctancy, since someone dies before the end. This was also the day, only an hour or so before, when another…

Love Pursuits

Meet Penelope, my new car. She is named after the infatuation interest of Pepe le Pew, the cartoon skunk who pursued the black cat, who accidentally had white paint poured on her back, which caused confusion to her identity. I say infatuation mildly, since the skunk was more of a stalker, and should’ve been arrested…

I Remember

I remember sitting in the bathtub, maybe a week or so after Bill died, feeling as if I was holding my breath, but without the ability to release with an exhale afterward. Like panic when we are under water and don’t know if we can hold it in another second, but find we are capable…

Life in the Here and Now

It’s early. The sprinklers hit the outside of the house every few seconds, reminding me of their need for adjustment. The air conditioner clicks on at this very moment, as if knowing full well the coffee is about to heat my insides into a hot flash. She comes on to save the day from needless…

A Mere Cutout of Oneself

I see the cardboard cutout of a girl on my run this morning. Her name is Sophia.  These decorated cutouts, around San Antonio, are part of a campaign to create awareness of children who often go unnoticed to abuse. I remember long ago a cutout of a boy who sat next to me in a…

Tree Limbs and Handprints

Aubrey and I spent the morning cutting down dead limbs from trees. Sun enters in to replace the dead branches. Fear enters in, reminding me the trees are only temporary. Bill worrying they may die, and the value diminish. How I try to look at their beauty, and not their existence.  … I see handprints…

Are You Okay?

The book, The War of Art, made its way out from the pile of books on the ground, in the corner of the room. I heard mention of its title in a couple of podcasts one day, like it was encouraging, or rather enticing me, to read it. Easy enough since I read it somewhere in…

Love in Full Bloom

I’m grateful for the fresh sod in my yard, and not the cemetery. The thought of being at the beginning of this journey without him, leaves me with an anxious feeling of hopelessness. Still, the pain at seeing the chairs being set up for a funeral, stirs a similar sensation. My heart crushes for the…

Bottled-Up Dreams

I wonder what Joseph felt in that span of two years–after the surge of excitement at the possible release from his horrible predicament, wondering, waiting for his bottled-up dreams to bubble into reality… Instead, hope faded because of a forgetful individual– …the chief cupbearer did not remember Joseph, but forgot him. Over time, I picture…

Scratching the Surface

Sitting here this morning, tidying up this blog site as one does when one doesn’t want to actually work on writing something of significance, I notice a couple of drafts that never made it to publication–from August, 2018. One particular writing had to do with doors; my first post back from hibernation had to do with…