The Battle For Joy

I just woke up early in my daughter’s home.  There are no sounds of our freshly born granddaughter, Parker, or her mother or father. I hope they are all sleeping.  Dan is deep in the twitching dreams of REM.  It is the quiet time of memory.  Parker is safe, sound, and already greatly loved.  Today…

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Tracing the Story

The move from our home in San Mateo, California to Los Angeles was the hardest thing I can remember in my early childhood. I was 8 years old, and yet in my body it seems like I was so much older than that. It was move number six in my short life and I felt…

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Touching Eternity

I sit on my yoga mat in the dim studio. The morning sun sends shafts of light spilling across the hardwood floor, and one by one, people drift in and unroll their mats around me. Soft music plays in the otherwise quiet room.

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Where grief and joy mingle.

I had been dating him for a few months when, while cooking dinner in his kitchen, he wrapped his arms around me and began singing a tune we could slow dance to—right there, next to the hot stove.

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