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It Goes On
Read more: It Goes OnWhen I was a child, my father had a darkroom in our basement. If I close my eyes, I can still smell the bitter chemicals and see the reddish light barely illuminating the room. I did not know exactly what he was doing in there, taking paper from one chemical into another and then hanging…
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Hidden
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Read more: HiddenWhen I was a child my father had a dark room in our basement. If I close my eyes I can almost smell the chemicals. I would spend time with him there as he would dip a seemingly blank sheet of paper into trays of chemicals. As a child I was not interested in the…
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Hallelujah
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Read more: HallelujahFebruary 10, 2019 Dear Gary, It has been eight years. Eight years ago today you walked out of our basement door, into the woods, out of our lives and into eternity. Sometimes it feels like eight minutes and sometimes it feels like eight decades. Time is a strange thing when one is grieving. Like everything…
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Of the Most High
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Read more: Of the Most HighThe morning began in church. My new friends, Ann and Jim, found me and thanked me profusely for the clothes. I asked them to sit with me and they happily took seats. At the end of the service Ann put her hand on my back and lowered her head. She was praying for me. She…
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Process of Becoming
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Read more: Process of BecomingI began taking ballet lessons when I was just three years old. I never could remember learning ballet just as I couldn’t remember learning to walk. It just always seemed to be. By the time I was eleven years old I was taking classes five days a week. My muscles had been trained to the…
