“The fog comes on little cat feet . . .” One of my favorite lines by Carl Sandburg. Something about the cadence of the words, the visual they bring to mind, speaks to me. Joy comes on little cat feet sometimes also. I cannot say I was raised on speaking terms with Joy. In our…
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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…
