cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
My son bought me a gratitude journal this past Christmas. I’ve always recommended the use of gratitude journals but, admittedly, thought that I didn’t need them since I trend toward realistic optimism as my normal modus operandi. However, this was the year that started out…weird. From the beginning moments of 2024, I started asking…
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Cold January rain pelted the windshield of my red Ford Expedition as I drove toward Barnes and Noble. I parked and swiftly exited the car, retrieving the stroller. I deftly popped it open with one hand, a finely honed skill. Unfastening Elly from her seat behind me, I securely strapped her into the stroller, tucking…
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Your story was so well-written! I smiled. It felt good to have my writing affirmed following the pain of sharing the words with my training group. The hard processing part was over, and we were relaxed, preparing to leave for lunch. I laughed and replied lightheartedly, I’m a good writer!
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