Black is for Dead People

So says my mother. Mom has a ratty black cardigan sweater that I have been wanting to replace the last few months. It is her “wubbie” of sorts, a cover-up when the A/C is too cold or the heat is not warm enough. It is also in a condition that Goodwill would consider ripe for the “no” bin. This black sweater is full of pills and pulls, linty pieces of Idontknowwhat and a hole big enough for a child’s handRead more

I Still Miss Him

Nope, it shall not be the former husband. Or the turtle I had as a child. Or the cockatiel named Banana. Or the awful boss from 24 years past. Why would I? This time of year, in the youthful days of spring, I miss him the most. I hear the roar of his brethren and sisterhood in the distance and it gives me chills. I know he’s out there somewhere, racing in the wind, guiding a free spirit along blacktopRead more