In late February, my son David who lives in North Carolina sent a text to his brother and me. “Did you see the sky?” he asked, including a cell phone photo of the evening sky taken in
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Snow pelted the windows and obscured the black night sky. It was 6 pm and my husband Vic was usually home by 5:30. I’d been through this before because we lived in a lake effect snow area
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In July 1972, they moved with their baby boy to a crumbling farmhouse on a dirt road and immediately got to work. She cleared cobwebs in the cellar while he made shelves from old barn boards. Like
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In Mexico, Missouri where Dad had gone to high school and Grandpa was a Friday regular at the Jefferson Hotel, I was an insider. Daddy knew everyone and, as far as I could tell, everyone loved him.
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“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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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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