From time to time you’ll see Stolen Moments show up on the blog. Words forgotten and misplaced, poetry, anticipatory memories, prose, joy and sorrow, pensive emotion, random and not so random thoughts scribbled in tattered notebooks. To not forget but remember the precious, fleeting stolen moments in time. I’m a writer trying recapture on paper how it feels to be alive. funny girl by Jacqueline Cioffa Dec. 2006 I would like to
Lupe and I must have walked the loop at Hoopes Park a thousand times, or more. In ten-degree freezing black ice, navigating lethal dangerous walkways (and fallen more than once), on grey-cloud, weepy wet gloomy days. You name it. We’ve dredged through it. It helps, ya’ know. The walk. To free the brain from the pressure, dark and dangerous thinking. Easing up, releasing the unrelenting anxiety. When we walk past the white pristine house
I love this. Because inside these words says a whole lot about me. And because I did not make it. Someone I respect and admire did. #werk Because she’s cool like that, I’m cool like that.
I wasn’t going to write a sappy. I wasn’t. But, I jumped. My father was and always will be the great love of my life. It’s been seven years, the 5th of May. I know the date I was there beside him. My mom, too. I can’t speak for my brothers, nieces or anyone who had the good fortune to meet him. He taught me
You can’t calm the storm, so stop trying. What you can do is calm yourself. The storm will pass. – Timber Hawkeye #DepressionAwarenessWeek
Another 5-star review for THE VAST LANDSCAPE thank you! #grateful “An amazing story of love, loss, and hope. I read it in a week and then turned around and read it again the next week. The author writes about meaningful experiences that touch the heart. I have just finished the sequel, “Georgia Pine,” which continues the story of love, loss, and hope. This story is a heartfelt read as well.
Do you believe in signs? I try. I want to. Some days they’re impossible to ignore. I have a funny kind of feeling we’ve been here, lived this place before. Maybe not in the same order, geography or circumstance. I don’t know, maybe not at all says the practical parts to me. I’m pretty sure we won’t remember. I’m quite certain the people I have loved deeply, who have loved me fiercely remain
I dreamt of you last night. It was so nice to see your beautiful face. You were laughing, tan, skin luminescent, summer blond silky hair straightened blowing in the breeze. You wore a hideous, teal colored poof dress and you were ridiculously happy. Seven, almost eight years have passed. I wrote this when you left trying to make sense of the shock, grief, numbness and non-sensical. I held onto it until today. It’s