At 18, Agatha was a wife. At 22, she was a widow. The stabbing pain of that loss engulfed her. It was her mother who…

The World - if I'm going to anthropomorphize her , I should capitalize her, right?- THE WORLD is a busy thing. A very large and…

In the depths of a mountain, coiled on a pile of gold, lay a dragon. It was an ancient being. When the kingdom outside was…

I can’t speak for her; I can’t speak for my daughter Susan. She is—was—the daughter of a woman—me—who refused to die. I am the mother.…

Con men and snake oil salesmen have always been with us, both in literature and, sadly, in life as well: The Bible has plenty of…

Years ago I used to go to a monthly Goddess ceremony at a friend of mine’s house in Los Angeles. I only stopped going because…

The crushing press inside Hera's Delight was unbearable. Hundreds of people crammed together in a tin can, hurtling away from destruction on a column of…

The room was bleak, dark, grey, silent, even though her room was in the middle of a house teeming with life. Agatha ignored the life.…

If there is no other absolute proof that we are all in this life journey together, then the simple idea that we breathe the same…

I’ve taken my country for granted. And why shouldn’t I have? The statement makes one guilt-ridden, as though there were not enough guilt to go…

We might envy windswept leaves by late morning last night’s dewdrops have burned off revealing a fresh surface We might wish the breeze or sun…

Nosotros This was never a perfect country, not Xanadu, not Utopia, not even Denmark. It was instead a promise, a work in progress, an ideal,…