It still sits in the cup holder of my car. In unsteady handwriting, “Linda” with a phone number. I keep thinking I should give her a call. Linda is a 70-something I met on the train a few weeks ago. Absorbed in my own world, distracted by a multitude of things going on in my…
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Blink and it’s gone
At the crack of dawn, I was already driving home from the airport, wiping big mama tears from my cheeks. My eldest was headed back to Texas, his fireman gear packed efficiently per his norm. Military precision is his modus operandi. While he was getting ready to board a plane, I was heading back to…
