They don’t give medals for this
She asked me to please, please wait at the finish line when I was done and get a picture of her crossing. Only it didn’t happen as she had pictured.
Stranger at the pay phone
As she began speaking to an operator, my mind wandered to a blood-splattered ER where I envisioned my little boy grimacing in pain and crying for his mommy, me.
Why my Bombeck badge matters
This badge arrived attached to an email announcing that one of my essays now lives on the Erma Bombeck Writers’ Workshop website.
The crying, the gift and the wardrobe
As she outgrew the costumes, she handed those down to her younger sister – the costumes, mind you, not the wardrobe. That would always and forever be hers. So was the dream.
The goodness of a teeny tiny beating heart
This teeny tiny heart beats and I am pleased beyond measure with this treasure…
Coming Full Circle in the Square
…when the day came to kiss his little forehead and gaze into his trusting hazel eyes one last time before planes, trains and old technology separated us, I almost changed my mind.