Next to getting ambush kissed by Stephanie Harbison in the first grade, cutting the grass of the family’s yard was by far my biggest passageway into manhood. Continue reading Just Cutting Grass
Have you ever had one of those days when everything seems to go wrong? The world’s just out to get you. No matter how hard you try to go up, things always seem to drag you back down? Continue reading Lessons Taught by Catherine
It’s not nice to make light of people who are trapped in the awfulness of a Long-Term Care Facility, but here’s a funny story. The last of the Roanoke stories, quite maybe. Continue reading Checkmate
Buried on a shelf, behind the door of an unused closet, lies an old beat-up jewelry box.
The box itself was very unassuming. A faded pale blue with a simple gold embroidery, the cushy feel of padding like those mass-produced in the 60’s and 70’s. But with a lift of the unlatched lid, a thousand thoughts and emotions poured out of the jewelry box, causing his head to spin and his heart to flutter.
The jewelry box was crammed full of letters written by his first love, handwritten memories on crinkled paper, some still nestled in their original envelopes. What started as ‘Puppy Love’ had developed over time, as did the length and complexity of the letters themselves.
If the pile of letters, now shuffled like a huge deck of cards, were laid out from the very first kiss until the present day, they would tell the wonderful tale of a young love blossoming into maturity, the pains of separating after adulthood, and a final chapter that would never end, instead a friendship that would last forever.
There’s something warm and comforting, so personal, in holding a piece of paper on which is written the thoughts and feelings of someone who means so much to you, and whose style of script you’ll never forget. It’s like having that person sitting beside you, though they’re not apart of your life or maybe never will be again, but they’ll never be gone forever.
Behind the creation of each letter, she had searched for an ink pen and a piece of paper, and had spilled-out her emotions with wet ink on a plain piece of paper.
Holding each handwritten letter with his own hands, reading each and every word she had written, he could clearly hear her voice.
And the jewelry box was placed back upon on the shelf.
Twenty years ago, my baby sister was diagnosed with breast cancer. Anxiety amongst our circle of family and friends was at an all-new high as we waited daily for news of the latest test results and a positive prognosis. Continue reading When Life Gives You a Big Lemon…
I was working in Aunt B’s basement yesterday, and she followed me down the stairs and began rummaging through some boxes, looking at old pictures. The more that I looked, the more that I was amazed. Continue reading Aunt B’s Pictures
I wrote a very short story yesterday entitled You Know You’re in a Small Town if… which naturally had me reminiscing and dreaming about those days up on the mountain. Some of us constantly need people around. Some are happier being alone. And somewhere in the middle is a really nice place to live. Continue reading Life on the Mountainside