What I wanted her to know, this sad, tired-looking woman who approached my door, is that I never lost sight of her, during all those months and years. Even as we painted all rooms, one by one, and eventually replaced…
View writingI know you are reading this. Actually, I can see you reading, see you through the window behind the building of your condo. Your lovely condo. You will go to that window shortly, and pull back the drape to see…
View writingTime passes. This is the second December since your death. As I drive across the Ballard Bridge, and look down on the city of boats, the tall masts and stout bodies, a floating city beneath the city, I think about…
View writingOwl jumped in surprise, the ancient tome he had been holding closed suddenly. He looked around, then realized no one was in the room, and he had appropriately debugged the area. He closed the book, put it back on the…
View writingOn November 14, 2024, I had cataract surgery in my left eye. It's no big deal for most people because it's a standard procedure with excellent results. But it was a big deal for me because I'm blind in one…
View writingNote: Hi! This is from a story I'm writing set in a dystopian future, but not very far into the future; Living in Hacienda Gaviotas in the beginning was sort of like moving to Mars. We knew there was a…
View writingYears ago my ex-husband and I were wandering around the city one Sunday and stopped in an antique store. We were just browsing when one of us spotted what looked like a small set of wooden panels folded up in…
View writingThere’s Michelangelo’s David…..and then of course the transcendental Piéta in Rome which gives me goosebumps every time I see it….the last time I turned a gentle corner in Firenze’s Accademia and the astonishing David slowly revealed itself, I could hear…
View writingHe was the rustling sway of the grass, she was the seeds, awaiting, years and decades, for safe conditions to bloom. He was the shock of delight, a small child’s clumsy fingers, trying to be gentle; she was the surprisingly…
View writingMy dead husband would be surprised at my fondness for cars. (I should say “late husband” since it’s less offensive to those receiving those words.) Maybe he wouldn’t. But I am often asked, “Why do you have two cars?” It’s…
View writingWhen you are as old as me, the thoughts of disappointments, of things not gained or achieved can make the early morning hours a torturous experience. Why did I say this, or why did I buy that, the voice continues…
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