When I was little, we used to visit my mom’s parents at a house on the coast of California that the family called The Brown House. It may surprise you to hear, but the entire exterior of the house was indeed brown. As the youngest in the family, and the most compact, it was my … Continue reading calamari…
For the most part my resurgence in posting as of late is just me diving back into myself. Allowing me a chance to be me for a while and to work with something I love. Words. My love affair with words started when I was young. Very young. When my older brother started reading I … Continue reading it’s a poem… just deal with it
As a child I hated any egg that was not hard boiled. Hate is not an overstatement. It might, in fact be an understatement. I loathed eggs that were not boiled. Easter eggs? Sure. Hard boiled eggs mashed up with butter, salt and pepper? Yes please. Deviled eggs? Yes, and did I mention I love … Continue reading plane post 3: eggs
I miss hard words coming out of my mouth. Once upon a time before I was able to spout fairy tales of rainbows and princesses riding unicorns to their coronation as queen of utopia I was the kind of girl that could cuss a blue streak. I'd make a sailor blush, or a trucker, or … Continue reading missing you
Rub a dub dub, Three men in a tub, And who do you think they be? The butcher, the baker, The candlestick maker. Turn them out, knaves all three! Do you remember that rhyme? For some reason it sticks in my head more so than any other I learned as a child so let me … Continue reading the butcher, the baker and the candlestick maker…
When I was little I liked nothing better than to curl up in my bed, in a chair, on my mother's lap and hear a story. It didn't matter if it was read from a book, a story from my parents' childhood or a story made up on the spot. I loved to hear a … Continue reading tell me a story…
I remember being barefoot and gliding through the sky in the shade of a tree. My heart was pounding as I took great gulps of air, I was terrified and invincible all at once as I pumped my legs forward and back willing myself to go higher and higher. To my right my best friend … Continue reading close to flying…
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