The word, Moira, is a Greek word for fate.
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cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
The word, Moira, is a Greek word for fate.
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I left my nine month old home with Grandma and joined friends at a resort in the north woods of Michigan back in 1967.
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My husband walked along the rocky shore line with boy-like wonder.
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A few days ago I walked through terminal number 3 in Phoenix, remembering when it was under construction and I was a newly hired Supervisor for America West Airlines.
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“We’re a mess.” Those three words spilled out of my mouth just as I had rehearsed them in my head for the previous few days.
Read MoreI had just gotten a few items at the grocery store and hoped to get home to enjoy a Sunday afternoon.
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It was the perfect day for a sail. Sunny, breezy, and beautiful.
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“Mom, we just closed on the house!” My youngest son called so excited about his first home with his wife and 16 month old son.
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I experienced an awakening to change recently.
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The year was 2004. We had slept very little, but needed to board buses and vans for the trip to the airport to fly into the military town of Tindouf , Algeria.
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