Sometimes in life, we must write a letter to ourselves for us to heal. Writing the message gets the words down…opening the mind to what happened, how we coped, and, most of all, how we learned to love again. For years, I lived without love.
Chattahoochee Child
Dearest Readers: Today is Memorial Day. I’ve written about it, posting it on my blog. Now that hubby and I have spent a quiet day together; I chose to post something here. A few weeks ago, I lost an acquaintance/friend who battled cancer during the Pandemic. Since I was in significant pain from a broken …
Childhood is a time of great joy and remembrance for most people. The carefree days of laughter, hope, freedom and pride is only a glimpse into what the future holds. Most people can reflect on childhood by looking back at preserved photographs captured during birth, a first haircut, loss of the first tooth, taking that most important first step, birthday parties, and so many innocent events during the journey of life. For me, that is not the case. My childhood snapshots were tossed away by my mother when I left her home.
Did you hear the storms last night? Did the lightning and thunder keep you
awake? Certainly affected me!
“Unlovable.” That’s what my mother described. “She said I was a stupid girl. She said I’d never amount to nothing but a hill of beans. Stupid. Stupid. Just stupid.”
Dearest Readers: Listed below is a bit of Chattahoochee Child: PROLOGUE – Rhythms October 2003 There is a rhythm to life, moving us at a pace we control by the decisions we make. When I was lost, and alone, I embraced the Chattahoochee River while listening to the melody of rhythms created by the symphony …
Whenever I see lightning, I jump out of my skin, almost. My husband says even when sleeping, I will hear the thunder and lightning and jump or tremble. I do not remember doing it. Just a few days ago, we had a summer storm in the afternoon. I was in route to get my doggies from the groomer. Every time I saw the lightning flash, I jumped, while driving. It isn’t a pretty sight.
Dearest Readers: Below is an excerpt from “Chattahoochee Child.” A FAMILY MATTER… Domestic Violence…Domestic Abuse… Regardless what it is called, it is truly a vicious monster. A wild, destructive monster that roars with such anger and turbulence I vowed never to allow it to knock at my door as a grown up. There were times …
Today is a day of remembrance for me. On July 6, 1999, while walking into the nursing home to visit with my dad, he was slipping away.
Dearest Readers: Periodically, I post a few stories from the book, “Chattahoochee Child” — my latest work-in-progress. Hope you enjoy! The morning my father and I learned to forgive each other started like most mornings in Mt. Pleasant, South Carolina. Resting motionless in bed, he reminded me of a frail injured bird with crippled …
