When we’re young and blessed with a happy home, it’s easy to think that life is nice and orderly. We neatly progress through school and friends and that special boy, to college or a job, then into marriage and children. Of course, you hear about “the thorns on the rose,” about “the rocks on the garden path,” but you don’t really understand what it’s all about until you prick yourself on one of those thorns or stumble over one of those rocks. Continue reading
Dateline: February 1998
“But he’s so… little,” Sonya whispered when I pointed out Gary, in the supermarket. Gary was the store’s manager and that’s how I’d met him in the first place, as Sonya well knew.
“Shut up!” With a quick, fierce movement, I dug my elbow into her side. Gary was already making his way toward us, his honest, open face clearly showing his pleasure. True, he was only about five-feet‑five inches tall, tops, but he had nice brown hair, laughing eyes, and a grin to die for. Continue reading