in the words of Lynn Hasselberger
We hugged. “It’s been a long time,” he whispered.
It had been three years. On my dad’s 70th birthday. As usual, he and I had nothing much to say to each other, that particular day.
What would we talk about during this visit, I wondered.
As my husband, Craig, and I followed my brother into the sitting area, I couldn’t help but notice the increasing spread of his waist
{EAV_BLOG_VER:0a4322c81a73304c}
Photo by mikemann05 | flickr.com
The ominous double doors came into view between my feet—two bumps beneath the blanket, like a gun site—and the hospital bed came to a halt. My husband, Craig, touched my palm to his lips as the nurse pointed him in the direction of the waiting room.
Inching forward, the bed triggered open the doors and Craig’s hand—my safety line—slipped away. “You’ll be fine,” I heard him say
Photo by Matt Champlin
It is now late October and I stare at the leaves clinging to the most stubborn of branches. I study the colors and let them saturate my soul; will them to endure. Some trees have lost all their leaves and still stand firm, mocking me as if they sense my intimidation
Putting It Out There 