A few weeks ago, when Dave was getting ready to take a run to the dump, we tackled a pile of boxes which had been stored in a covered area along with our hay. Spying one dilapidated box, I told Dave, “I think those are the last of Cindy’s
A memory from four years ago. I’m happy to say that she’s still singing; I pray she never stops.
She sits close to me tonight. Closer than usual. Sometimes, on some Wednesday nights, I can tell her mind is elsewhere. Those times, she’s
We had a Helen Keller moment this week.
It started, as so many things do, with me remembering that I had forgotten something … which sounds kind of oxymoronish. While I was gardening earlier in the evening, Dave had lit three of the tiki torches
It’s just a bowl of oatmeal. Scotch cut; nonfat milk; a hint of real maple syrup, added in a last-second burst of indulgence. The coffee is a tad on the cool side — enough to notice; not enough to drive me from this chair. But I ground