AKA "The Writing Woman"
Every now and then I hear one of those old songs from the 1940s that my parents used to listen to, and – wow – do those lyrics hit! The other night, as I lay awake in bed (as usual), I remembered the lyrics of “There Will Never Be Another You”: There will be many…
I came across videos of a trip Rick and I took 14 years ago this month. He knew going to Cornwall to explore the land of my ancestors had been a life-long dream and we spent five glorious days in England. We then met up with my son and his wife to explore several other…
I’m babysitting my two young grandsons for a four-day weekend while their folks are out of town. These two like all sorts of music. They may ask the Amazon Alexa to play Daft Punk, Justin Bieber, rap or hard rock, or at bedtime, just before I play Enya, they want to hear “My Heart Will…
The Golden Years I never thought I’d be alone In the golden years… This stage of life we longed for Retired from the nine to five drudge Free to do anything we wanted. When we looked towards the future, we saw beaches and travel More of this! We said, when we took that three-week trip…
In October 2006, we found this house. It was a beautiful, quiet setting on a dead-end street. We had been considering a different house, but we came to look at this house one more time. When we saw it with the leaves turning color and the autumn light and smells all around us, we knew…
The fuchsia-pink pool noodle Rick bought me is starting to decompose around the edges. The memories of that last vacation we shared are starting to fade around the edges, too. How can a pool noodle come to mean so much to me? How does it symbolize our love? Or his personality? Or how much he…
Five years ago today, I held Rick’s hand in a death grip. A literal death grip, for hour upon hour. By noon of that day, I realized he was going to die, and he did, at 8pm that night. The night before, alone in my bed, I had an odd feeling. A scary feeling. A…