Hi.
Welcome to my blog, a place where I document when life gets lifey.
Welcome to my blog, a place where I document when life gets lifey.
Part of me thought I would find him here. But he’s just as gone here in Florida as he is back in Indiana. Re-experiencing the loss feels as fresh here as it was two months ago when he took his last breath.
It's quiet here in my parent's house. Too quiet. My dad is lying in his bed, struggling to find a comfortable position for his weak body that now holds tubes to drain his bladder and kidneys.
An Open Letter to Divorced Women,
I’m hoping you can give me some answers. I have so many questions.
Telluride. There’s something magical about this place. My ex-husband and I first came here years ago to ski and snowmobile. Eventually we brought our kids, then friends and their kids.
My dad has cancer. Again. He had it once before. A different kind, about 20 some years ago. Back then it was prostate cancer and once he had that little trouble-maker removed, followed by some radiation, he was back to his active, energetic self.
Most adults say their birthdays aren't a big deal to them. I suspect they don't want to face the fact that they're getting older or they fear someone will actually ask how old they'll be.
Carson is a senior at the high school where I work. Until last year most of our interactions were contained to passing one another in the hallways with a quick smile.
There's a book called, Hotel on the Corner of Bitter and Sweet," by Jamie Ford. I've never read the book but I've loved the title since I first heard it. So much of my life takes place at that corner.
When I was handed my job contract as director of enrollment at a local high school, it should have come with a big, red WARNING stamped across each page.
