Were I to die and were I to be notorious enough to have a newspaper article that attempted to sum up my life, I would want the headline to read: She had good reason. I quickly lose patience with people who think I don’t make decisions with care. Or don’t research things. Or any manner of failings on my part to explain the utter weirdness and chaos of my life.

Until exactly five years ago this month, I have always been able to say that every problem plaguing me could be quickly solved with a large influx of cold, hard cash.  And I said that with reverence as I knew how fortunate that made me.  My health was good, I loved where I lived, my relationships and friendships were rewarding, and I loved where I worked, even if the nuts and bolts of what I did weren’t that rewarding.

I have longed for decades to have the ability to sing on key.  I don’t mean an excess of talent or star power.  I don’t want to be Taylor Swift or Barbra Streisand.  I just want to be able to join in on sing-alongs.  I’d like to throw in some song to my spoken-word stuff.  I would like to not be embarrassed by my voice.

Marina continued although a little distracted. The show must go on reverberated in her head. She forced herself to pay attention to the person sitting across from her.. She had to work very hard to stay in the present as her heart was visiting the past and her soul was questioning the future. When she was done, even more spent than usual, she went to her hotel room.

Alice R. Henderson is believed to have painted the piece attributed to Matisse titled The Conversation.  The image is that of a dark-haired woman in a black robe sitting in a chair.  Standing opposite her is a red-headed man.  He is wearing pajamas.  The expressions on their faces are familiar but hard to put to words, although it is clear the woman is not happy.

Photo by Michał Mancewicz on Unsplash It took all the coordination she could summon, but Brenda crawled out of the sleeping bag, unzipped the tent, and was able to stand up without falling down. She had to pee..  I hate camping, I hate camping, I hate camping – the refrain was on repeat in her head as she made her way to where she thought the latrine area was. 

Photo by Max on Unsplash “You can see me?” I used to say that to strangers who insisted on talking to me when I just wanted to be alone. Of course, they didn’t think I was really a ghost they just thought I was crazy. If they only knew. I’ve been living in this town for just shy of 20 years.

Young Lady Reading a Red Book by Amalia Suruceanu Your card arrived in the mail today.  I noticed the pink envelope first, and then my heart beat faster when I saw it was your handwriting.  Where did you find this card?  It was scrumptious --- hand-made paper and a soft watercolor image that I think might have been an original.  You didn’t make this, did you? 

I’m rowing in rough waters though it’s a waste of my precious energy.  The waves are strong, the current powerful and I am too weak to fight it any longer. But I’m looking for a coast.  A…

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I cannot believe this. I just can’t.  That little bitch, pardon my language, but this is so beyond the pale that that’s the nicest word I can use.  After all we’ve done for her.  I d…

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I’m rowing in rough waters though it’s a waste of my precious energy.  The waves are strong, the current powerful and I am too weak to fight it any longer. But I’m looking for a coast.  A…

NOTE: I belong to a writing group that meets every morning on Zoom, at 7 a.m., except for Saturdays, when we meet at 8 a.m. We also meet on holidays, Sundays, and weekdays. This group has been my s…

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Gather round, children.  I have a tale of woe and fright which you should heed. The world for you now is all peppermint and puppies.  You are given food when hungry, a warm safe bed to sleep i…