Above and Below What’s Lost

February 15th marks the two year anniversary of when I lost my mother at the age of 99-1/2. While I miss this dear woman, I am relieved and grateful that she is not sitting alone in a nursing home, without her daughter’s visits, while a pandemic rages on. Heaven above is where she belongs and earth below is where I must live and breathe and keep moving. I can plainly see Your smile from above The peace you must feelRead more

Lost at Sea

I make no excuses for this. It’s me. Always has been. There are times when the bits and pieces of useless information stay with me for eternity, while more important knowledge flies into the Bermuda Triangle five minutes after it’s been assimilated. I chuckled to myself last week when one of my employees former employees called to ask directions in forwarding phone calls. Her extremely detailed directions were not working. Ummm… *thinking, thinking, thinking* Nope, this tidbit from a pastRead more

Poor Little Kitten

Who has lost their mitten? Was it a child or poor little kitten? I have no clue, but it is written, One little paw or one small hand may be frost-bitten. And neither shall have their pie. Meow…sigh…no pie. This post is in response to the Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge: Against the Odds. What are the odds that one lone mitten would be hanging off the branch of a tree? That it would be lost? Or that it wouldRead more

Searching…

“If it had teeth, it would have bit you!” That’s the wisdom mom shared with me on several occasions during my youth. It would come after I had been searching, searching, searching for something…only to find it was mere inches from my nose. I tend to be one of “those people” who is not always observant to her surroundings. And so it was when I walked out of the super-sized grocery store into the super-sized parking lot on a sub-zeroRead more

Pauline’s Dream Revised

Back in August, 2014, I wrote a poem called Pauline’s Dream. You can read it HERE. For the Day 5 poetry challenge of Fog/Elegy/Metaphor, I chose to rewrite this poem and the words, but tell the same story. For those of you who are not regular readers, my mom is 95 and suffers from the effects of dementia. When Ben suggested fog as a mental state, this was a natural response. This is the place of my dreams, but itRead more