“So, Rachel, what did you ask Santa for this year?” Paul teased me next. “The same thing I ask for every year and never get…a hockey stick.” I’d asked for one in the fourth grade, and my mom wouldn’t even consider it since she was certain I’d break somebody’s leg, …
“When I reached the upper floor, I saw two closed doors to two rooms that faced each other, between them the tiny landing I was on. I carefully opened the door to one room and then the other, bracing myself for the screech of old hinges protesting my intrusion. But …
“I told no one of the attic treasures I’d found, not even Trevor during his brief visit, even though I had intended to. It was supposed to have been a bonding time, a time for him to see me in a new way and realize the importance of what I …
From soon to be released “Asked For” – when we don’t know how to ask for what we really want from a relationship: “She lifted the bowl of potatoes and extended it to him, the pool of melted butter sloshing against the rim of the small pond he’d made in …
He stared at me, then nodded slowly. I smiled, wishing I hadn’t come. Wishing I’d had time to finish Julianne’s story before I was coaxed…no, forced…back to this world. The smile worked. He stepped to me and wrapped his arms around me, nuzzling his face into my hair. “It’s good …
“I didn’t just fall into this friendship when you came back and opened your great-grandmother’s house. I knew what I was doing when I came over with your brother. I was already a part of your world. It was natural for me. You just didn’t know it yet.” I puzzled …
“Mama had six children after she had me, five of them one right after the other, mostly because Pop couldn’t leave her alone. It wasn’t that he was in love with her; he just loved hard the same way he worked hard. He worked her hard too, and us kids, …
“He slid his fingers along her hand and down the length of her fingers. He began playing them as if they were keys. And when he did, music began somewhere deep inside of her. She looked at him, as it rose and sang away her worry. He played, and she …
A poem that has been around the block many times, and warrants being sent around once again. Why the occasion? Because my brother, a pure businessman, saw something of me, a writer, in these words. So from Ms. Graham’s thoughts to Ms. Demille’s, from my brother’s heart to mine, and …
“You’re thinking about going,” Mr. Morgan dropped his gaze to the apron dangling from James’ hand. James looked down and nodded. He lifted the apron and extended it to Mr. Morgan. To his surprise, Mr. Morgan took it. “Don’t expect you’ll need that apron where you’re going,” he said. Mr. …
