“What do you want to do when you visit, Mom?” I don’t hesitate. “Let’s go to the Magic Wings Butterfly Conservatory. I haven’t been there for years.” My son David laughs. He knows I love butterflies, and
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Two days before my dead husband Vic’s birthday, I received an email from a stranger in England. Kel Mansfield had found Vic’s first cousin in Canada through AncestryDNA, and she told him about Vic. After looking at
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Daddy was sad and quiet. Mommy cleared her throat and dabbed her eyes with a tissue. Uncle Jim and Aunt Martha arrived without my cousins. I was 9 years old and soaked in impending doom, but no
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I hurry uphill, out of breath. Instead of sitting quietly at my altar inside, I push and pant to reach the top of the trail before the evening sun sinks from sight. The closest hills are across
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I tell my mother I want to go to a Marion Woodman conference–except my dream mother is none other than my Jungian teacher Marion Woodman. Dream Mother-Marion sits wrapped in a flowing silk scarf as I stand
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“Hold me. I’m worried about you.” “Hug me. I’m scared.” “Put your arms around me and breathe with me.” “Grab my hand and don’t let go.” Daddy was a hand holder and a hugger. His health was
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Blue Jays, Cardinals, and Juncos are my constant January companions, but Blue Jays bullies are no match for the little Downy Woodpecker female who dominates the suet cake. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. I hear her
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My son David arrived from his home in North Carolina a few days before Christmas. We’d planned good food, mellow vibes, and hikes. Two years of Covid made visits rare, so it was a gift to be
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I dream I’m searching for healthy food in a large cafeteria, but can’t find nutritious food or even green tea and feel confused and lost. I turn around and my dead husband Vic stands facing me, masked
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I know what I want for Christmas. I want to be a cowgirl just like Dale Evans. I want boots, a vest with tassels, and a cowgirl hat. I want a horse like Buttermilk. Creamy, gentle, a
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