The Art of Receiving
As I was reaching for my debit card at Molly Moon’s yesterday, the woman in line behind me and Etta tapped me on the shoulder. “I’d like to pay for your ice cream, if you don’t mind,” she said, smiling.
Read moreAs I was reaching for my debit card at Molly Moon’s yesterday, the woman in line behind me and Etta tapped me on the shoulder. “I’d like to pay for your ice cream, if you don’t mind,” she said, smiling.
Read moreA poem about being enough.
Read moreMay I stay steady. May I not give in to despair. May I channel my anger and grief into effective,
Read moreI wrenched my back last week, and nine-year old Etta has been very concerned, seeing me wince in pain as I hobble around the house. Last night as I was stiffly and carefully tucking her into bed, she said, “Your spine is being bad! It’s hurting you!”
Read morea poem about childhood abuse, facing fear, and healing
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