“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. …
Alex leaned back in his chair. “What my father went through didn’t feel like love when we were little.” “But maybe it was,” Kyle persisted, his tone smooth and even. “Does love always turn out the way we want it to?” Then he looked at me. “Julianne Crouse was a …
Mother’s Day. A day to express honor, a day to be real, a day to offer your mother and the women in your family the right to be and express who they really are.
“In the morning I would move into Julianne’s house. Tomorrow was the day I would tear down the last barrier between me and my great-grandmother, the one I believed she had wanted torn down all these years. And hopefully with it would come down the barrier between me and Trevor, the Crouse women and the world, the Crouse women and themselves.”
Thinking ahead to a happy Mother’s Day, for all women everywhere.
This is not a commercial break, this is a moment of ahhhh. Known since I was a kid I was supposed to write and now, at long last, following a midnight inspiration of the title nearly two years ago, here is my first officially published work – Mine to Tell – one woman’s story that fits so many of us. An ebook for Kindle now, but a paper bound book next March. Wow! I’m old enough to appreciate paper and the feel of a story in my hands!
It’s a parade somewhere west of Chicago where some talented artist lined an alley with an audience that watches you march by. I’m a lover of the written word, but who can deny the human form top billing as an intriguing subject? In this case, every face tells a story. Thank you, whoever painted these walls, you held an author spellbound.