“I don’t know him.” My son’s words sting because they’re true. I tuck the Father’s Day card into its envelope and a sigh of undesired acknowledgement escapes my lips. A twelve hour road trip has separated us for more than fifteen...
She is the elderly woman in the polyester suit sitting alone in the church pew week after week or the frazzled young mother in the grocery aisle juggling a wailing infant and impatient toddler. She might be the middle-aged divorcee’ who envies every couple in a...
The barren places..we all have them. They are the wounded, aching parts left empty; still waiting to be filled. Was your mother critical, self-absorbed, or caught up in a drama so consuming that she overlooked your hurts? Did your father fail to fight for...
I methodically fold each piece of laundry–bending, creasing, aligning edges–and wish life would align as closely to my hopes. If only the loose ends left from the hard, dirty places of living could be trimmed as easily as the loose ends left at the...
Patches of gold dotted the landscape–the borders neatly trimmed by barbed wire fences. The wheat fields resembled an old patchwork quilt; each square confined by the even stitches running across its surface. Whether you were a local or a visitor, it was a...