I have always felt safest underwater. My fondest memories are childhood summers spent at home with my strong, capable, joyful father sitting in a chair counting laps. He would be happy to just sit, and count well into adulthood. I knew he was there, waiting, whenever I came up for air, lingering a moment too long. Mesmerized by the summer sun, and the light patterns dancing across the blue vinyl.
This picture popped up in my memories today on Facebook and made me smile. Michel and I fought, a lot. He thought I was spoiled. I was. We argued, a lot. I’d only learn in time and the passing of years what he meant. I learned so many lessons from him. How to live a simple life, to love and respect nature, to take long walks everyday, (like ten miles
I cannot walk through the grief for you. I would if I could. I cannot cry the tears that pour like a fountain. I would if I could. I cannot understand the pain, the weight, the fear and the messy emotions that consume your broken heart. Grief is yours, and only yours. The love never dies, no one can take that from you. Loss. I would carry that burden, I
In His Boots The mementos we hold on to, heirlooms we choose not to discard and throw away. All the traditional, routine ways we try to live inside the memory of someone, some one precious, beloved. To feel them near in the physical awhile longer can seem foolish and nonsensical. It’s ridiculous to think an oversized, outdated, uncomfortable pair of black boots with fleece lining and thick rubber soles hold