A sweet tale of memories and nostalgia.
A sentimental tale about the joys of grandparent duties.
I was seven years old when my mother nearly burned down our house. My brother, sister and I were watching TV in the den while Mom was getting dinner ready. She poured oil into a heavy cast iron pan and set the pan on an open flame to heat.
There was water rising in the basement. Cold, dark, murky, slimy, water. Being a woman alone, a single mother, without a man, she had no idea what to do about it.
Let’s work together to keep one another on the path that leads to a happy ending!
A touching true story about grief and the special bond between Mother and Daughter.
A short and sweet story about the meaningful things we allow our children to steal from us.
If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ve probably been wondering ‘who is this lady?’ and ‘what’s her deal?’ Most of my posts have been about other people and other things with a few little anecdotal tidbits thrown in for personal relevance and an attempt to ‘relate’ to you, my audience. Sure, there have…
SOS! What do you do with a large—a very large—bagful of wild apples, hard and green and sized like golf balls? Google doesn’t have a page for this.
Refusing the apples is not an option. Ten-year-old squidgelet took a shopping…..