It was the last day of school. The weather was hot, and my children were anticipating summer vacation. It was time for the fun to begin. I filled water balloons, loaded them into a bucket and headed up the sidewalk toward the elementary school. When the first child came into view, I launched my attack. […]
The water in the small pool was calm and clear. Small pebbles were scattered along the bank. My two teenage daughters picked up flatish rocks and tried to skip them across the pond with somewhat limited success. My six-year-old son was content to watch for a few minutes. Then he picked up a rock and
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I belong to a writing group based in New York. Last Saturday I was given a challenge to write as if I were a grieving artist who was seeking healing through accessing a past life of someone who was connected to the sea in some way. I had 45 minutes to write. I chose to
My mother and my oldest sister Agnes both gave birth to boys at about the same time. Although they were the same age, Mark was actually David’s uncle. One day the two boys got into an argument. “He’s my Dad!” “He’s my Grandpa.” “My Dad!” “My Grandpa!” They were both right. I am right. Of
