Teardrops in the wind…..

I post this every year….a healing,  loving ritual because I need to somehow honor those days out loud, especially for those who maybe still haven’t found their voices yet. And for all mothers everywhere,  because our hearts bear always the stretch marks of loving and letting go. It was March,  1979. Breezes turned balmy and I…

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Teardrops in the Wind….

I post this each year…..please hear that it comes from a place of healing and hope But I need somehow to honor these days out loud, especially for those who maybe haven’t found their voices yet. And for all mothers everywhere, because our hearts bear always the stretch marks of loving and letting go. It was…

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Teardrops in the wind…

It was the March of 1979. Breezes turned balmy and I pulled off my shoes, letting swollen feet tramp across warming earth. I was pregnant with my first baby, due on St. Patrick’s Day. For weeks I had ached for time to stop, squeezing myself shut to the coming separation, the word “relinquish” hanging heavy…

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teardrops in the wind…

It was the March of 1979. Breezes turned balmy and I pulled off my shoes, letting swollen feet tramp across warming earth. I was pregnant with my first baby, due on St. Patrick’s Day. For weeks I had ached for time to stop, squeezing myself shut to the coming separation, the word “relinquish” hanging heavy…

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hope like honey on biscuits….

She is busy, hurrying to make it through the list in her hands and those long hours before the littles thronging her grow tired and finally sigh into their pillows. I watch her hands, dazzled at their freedom to tossle her children’s hair or stroke a young cheek or whisk them up and swing them…

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