The View

girl on springboardThe view from where I’m standing would be impressive if I could open my eyes. ‘Why am I here? I must be crazy,’ I argue with myself. I shiver in the slight breeze even though the temperature is in the high 80s. Sound is muffled like I’m under water, but I’m not there yet. Read more

Piece of my lung

Battered sneakers

Note: I have joined a writing group that is a bunch of fun! Requirements are that the story has to be exactly 300 words. There are also three required words that the moderator of the group chooses – the very first word of the story and two others. I’ll put those words in bold. Enjoy!


Persistence,’ I say to myself as if just the word can propel me forward. I watch each foot rise and fall, rise and fall, getting lost in the rhythm of it. Only another block, I think, keeping my head down and listening to blood rush through my ears.

Or should I keep my head up? I must be crazy. New to this running game, I’m not sure I’m doing it right. My running shoes are mostly used for yard work – gardening, raking, pruning hydrangeas, weed pulling.

My lungs ache and the pounding in my head is so bad, for a moment I think I might have a stroke or just trip and fall in the street, face down, like a drunk stumbling out of a tavern.

‘Breathe!’ I tell myself. It would feel so great to just lay myself down on the cool evening pavement, I muse.

That was the first time I decided to run as serious exercise. I believed I was in great shape. In my late-thirties, I had an eye on the prize of simply accomplishing a 5K race. How hard could it be?

‘Incredibly hard’ was my answer after I ran a short thousand feet that steamy June night. My goal was to run to the President Ronald Reagan statue near my home. Just a thousand feet. Head up the street and turn right. Piece of cake. I think I lost a piece of my lung that night.

Persistence paid off. One foot in front of the other, baby steps – I used all the clichés. I learned to love the sport. I have run 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons. I haven’t wrapped my mind around a full marathon, though. It’s something I just can’t envision the finish line. After all, it’s a marathon, not a sprint.

A Season of Angels

Feather flying in the air

I haven’t moved a muscle in 8 minutes. I’m focusing on my ragged breathing, trying to calm the horrible wheezing this bronchitis has caused. I’m not often ill. I rarely contract a cold and haven’t had the flu in decades. I consider this illness an inconvenience rather than an occasion for suffering.

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Teenage Therapy

Note: I have joined a writing group that is a bunch of fun! Requirements are that the story has to be exactly 300 words. There are also three required words that the moderator of the group chooses – the very first word of the story and two others. I’ll put those words in bold. Enjoy!

Girls hands passing a note

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Jeopardy! is about to start

“…who knows whether you have come to the Kingdom for such a time as this?” Esther 4:14

A shudder slides down my spine as I sit on a polished wood pew. The organist is playing too loudly as the lector recites a list of names. The named are people who have died during the past year. It’s November 2, the annual All Souls Day remembrance at St. Patrick’s Catholic Church. Read more

Doctor Jesus

Senior man in blue shirt harvesting grapes in garden

My mom’s devotion to Jesus was awe inspiring. I know she is now with him because he personally told her she would be.

Mom has been my confidant, teacher, biggest cheerleader. She was the most beautiful woman in the world. The best cook and domestic goddess. She had style, class – she was Jackie O, Liz Taylor, Paula Dean and Martha Stewart all rolled into one. Read more