A couple of weeks ago, I had my last physical therapy appointment. I have been going to physical therapy appointments regularly since my brain hemorrhage in January 2020. I looked back at my calendar and did some math to discover I have had over 343 hours (that’s 20,580 minutes!) of physical and/or occupational therapy over … Continue reading From Wheelchair to 5K: How 343 Hours Changed My Life
Tag: writing
Remembering My First Poem: A Tribute to Ms. Hawes
I remember the first poem I ever wrote. In fact, I still have the original copy, 36 years later. I don’t remember the details, of course, but what I do remember is how much I adored my third grade teacher, Ms. Hawes. I would do anything within my power to impress her. When she once … Continue reading Remembering My First Poem: A Tribute to Ms. Hawes
Waverly: A Novel (Excerpt)
April 13, 1936 The coffin rested on the kitchen table in the center of the room. She turned and stared at the walls, up at the ceiling, down at the floor, anything to avoid looking at the smooth pine box that seemed to swallow the air in this room, seemed to draw the very breath … Continue reading Waverly: A Novel (Excerpt)
Paint Chip Poetry #2: Blank Canvas
BLANK CANVAS Everyday is a blank canvas. Some days, The canvas is full of gold medals And lucky pennies, On those days, it’s easy to see everything Through rose-colored glasses, To forget that It isn’t always like this. Other days, Your canvas seems dark as night. You find yourself in a Deep, dark wood, Or … Continue reading Paint Chip Poetry #2: Blank Canvas
Confessions of a Hotel Pen Hoarder
I have a confession to make. I'm a hotel pen hoarder. I'm not sure when this habit started, but I have accumulated quite the collection during my travels.
The Intruder
Note: This is an excerpt from my book, Kentucky Family. When I hear a strange noise in the night, I usually chalk it up to some critter moving around outside, the pipes, or the heater or air conditioner, depending on the season. I briefly contemplate it, and then just go back to sleep, content that … Continue reading The Intruder
The Scar
I sucked air between my teeth in a hiss, not wanting to wake my husband, but wanting the pain to stop. I had been in the midst of a dream, but I couldn’t remember it. I grabbed my wrist and felt it was hot and slick with what could only be blood. I jumped out … Continue reading The Scar
Paint Chip Poetry
I may have a new obsession: I picked up Paint Chip Poetry: A Game of Color and Wordplay by Lea Redmond on a whim at Blick Art Materials when I was in Atlanta last week. I thought it might be a fun little activity to do when I hit a wall of writer’s block or … Continue reading Paint Chip Poetry
Summer Sun: A Poem
My mother is blessed with smooth skin, thanks to good genesand Oil of Olay. Despite hours in tobacco fields or laying out on a towel, the scent of Johnson’s baby oil lingering in the air, a pitcher of sun tea brewing nearby, she has always tanned gently,like a soft caramel. Growing up, I longed to … Continue reading Summer Sun: A Poem
The Trouble with Historical Fiction
I love reading historical fiction. Getting lost in the world of a great story inspired by true events is the ultimate escape for me. I’ve always admired authors who are able to describe a world from long ago so clearly that I can put myself right there in the midst of the action. Through the … Continue reading The Trouble with Historical Fiction
