fluttering fingers and moonlight twirls…

I didn’t mean to see her so big. Went looking for an address so i could send a letter that was for our eyes only and, like a dream, I found her instead. I wanted to make sure she’d heard me….to walk all the way to the edge and lean over the side to make certain that she’d…

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Love letters and the long way home….

Shame is a psychopath with a fake badge. Guilt – it has some value. Guilt says,  “hey,  that was a bad call.  So not you.  Go apologize.” It’s crisp.  Clear. Put things right because you’re not gonna want to haul this around. “Acknowledge. Own. Forgive. Learn. Grow,” Guilt counsels.  Go clean off and get back in the game. Shame doesn’t care about you…

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Cheesecake with cherries and I won’t go away….

I want a quick time-out to say plain what this story is not. I’m not moralizing;  don’t have an agenda. If I ever carry a sign,  it would be to champion hope. Women face impossible decisions and need a tender grace, not oversimplified,  whitewashed shoulds. I’m pro-life.  Pro-choice.  Pro-solution.  Pro-people. There isn’t a whisp of politics about any of this;…

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The story of “they”……

My childhood ended the night my water broke on a cold hospital floor. Mortified, I quickly apologized to the nurse who walked in and questioned,   eyes still on her chart, “You’re still giving this baby up?” It was brisk business. “Yes,”  the word comes from the far back of my throat and I’m embarassed by the…

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To write through the window…………

The windows are open to a warm October afternoon as the phone rings and I’m startled  by the sound of the roar in my head as my eyes land on the caller ID and see my hand  lift the receiver. Children’s Home Society of N.C. I answer in slow motion, feeling the turn of the earth as a season changes. ~  ~  ~  ~  ~ She’d just turned 18 the last…

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