How Does She…

She crawls out of bed, her feet padding lightly against the cold, tile floor. Moving almost silently past closed doorways, she holds her breath hoping that the simple increase of her heartbeat doesn’t somehow rouse the little ones from their own needed slumber....

The Thing About Christmas

There’s this memory that sort of hovers over me every year. It floats in sometime after Thanksgiving, and grows increasingly strong until Christmas morning when it roars past me like a freight train. Sometimes I wish I could catch the memory, maybe climb back...

Battle Weary

I thought it was a good idea. It seemed to be so, anyway. As I walked down the sidewalk, in the beginning, I felt proud of myself for the suggestion. This wasn’t just a good idea – it was a great one. Those happy thoughts lasted all of thirty seconds. It...

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