No story is simply about one thing. That is because even one word all by itself is never simply singular in its meaning, singular in its effect, simple in its reverberation in the eyes and ears of anyone who sees…

Her perfumed, plaited hair, the way it shone under the dizzying ballroom light, as brassy as the trumpets swinging on stage, the way its scent of lavender raced throughout the crowd, in and out of the arms of dancing couples,…

When all the shit comes down and the wars go on and then finally end, the pieces don’t come back the way they went out. They don’t fit like before. Even if it’s only been a few years of torture…

I am told I'm too busy and that I have too much on my plate, as if that deters my motivation for accomplishing my goals. I am told that there are only 24 hours a day, and that I cannot…

Today's title is taken from an Andrew Loyd Webber musical the I saw on Broadway years ago, and loved, starring Bernadette Peters.... "Tell Me on a Sunday is a musical with music by Andrew Lloyd Webber and lyrics by Don…

Not now, Mom not this torrent of resentment I know too well opportunistic, you waited so that “oh now, you finally call” could be yet another in the arsenal of verbal weaponry. Not now, not when my brother told me…

My job has me dealing with a lot of mansplainers.

As outdated as old stories may be, they still need to be recognized, if only to remind us of where we've come from.

New stories happen when the heart turns and sees an old story through a different lens. Her husband was telling her how he’d feel if she died before he did, or if she committed physician-assisted suicide, which they had recently…