Finding My Magic Again
< 1 I remember being the grumpy child with the scrunched up face
< 1 I remember being the grumpy child with the scrunched up face
< 1 Before you left,
6 MINThere were bamboo sheets to beat the heat and canopy curtains to ward off mosquitoes, so you’d think there’d be a coffee maker. I pulled on a long-sleeved shirt, and announced I was heading to the…
2 MIN(April 24, 2026) It chilled the warmth around my beating heart. A “memory,” Facebook calls it, although it is my memory and only their algorithm. I had not forgotten; it was only that it was…
< 1 You linger in the approaching twilight. The elongated shadows of victory’s laurel tree casting doubt. Should you have taken this twisting path? You knew the journey’s end would menace, threaten, but sweeter times may still…
< 1 The K-mart stranger in the Candy aisle
2 MINMy children do not look like me. Our complexions do not match. The bathroom cabinet is filled with gels, creams, and brushes meant for an array of hair textures. Our eyes are all different shades,…
4 MINOn noticing, not confessing—and the distance between thinking and knowing Lately, I have been invited—repeatedly, enthusiastically—to join or lead journaling sessions. Some of these are in person. Some are online. All of them give me…
3 MINOn February 20th, I went to bed and dreamt I was alone in a theater. It was a magnificent theater. Multistory mahogany walls. Twinkling crystal chandeliers. Modern plush seats. And a red velvet curtain which—as…
3 MINIn my early 20s, I followed a boy from Los Angeles to Cleveland. At the time, I believed I was madly in love with him. What I was truly seeking was the comfort and love…
4 MINIf I chose a nom de plume, it would be “Dorothy,” because my writing journey has been a yellow brick road after a dislocating twister of empty nest, retirement, relocation and living solo in a partnered community.