This March I turn 56. And for the first time, it is not a birthday I welcome. It will be the first one without my husband since we married over 26 years ago. My daughter is leaving home and moving to Colorado five days later. And I look in the mirror these days and feel old.
And then there are days like today. When I am called to make soup, with onions and celery and carrots and ginger. It is my version of Miso soup, hearty with many vegetables. I slice and dice and sauté and stir while classical music plays in the background. I go to make a cup of
It is strange the things that trigger the grieving. The other day it was my visit to my accountant to prepare our taxes. Every year for over 26 years we had our ritual at tax time. The annual argument over turbo tax vs. an accountant. I always voted for the accountant; I usually won. Then
https://youtu.be/KWFWvcdQJO0 Stunned Heart Into the freezer. Hit me with the numb gun Safer there. No thoughts there, Time is frozen there. No moment after. No walk down the hall. No sitting in the chair. No looks of sorrow and dismay. No I’m sorry, so sorry. I’m sorry, so very, very sorry. My heart is
Tradition. The transmission of customs or beliefs from generation to generation. Christmas when I was growing up was always fraught with tension, as expectations ran high and indubitably my parents would get into a big fight and all was ruined. Being married to Mike changed all that, and especially after our daughter was born. Over