Matters little…I accept. – Women worth writing about.
“He never pried into her private life, nor she into his. The dark, and sometimes cold little room with the piano, had become a world set apart where their music was all they needed to know about each other. They spoke to one another through the music’s tones, understood each …
“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, …
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 …
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!
