People in this world are either branch or trunk. Yes, I am vastly oversimplifying. Bear with me. I used to be a branch type of gal. Creative, growth-oriented, swaying in the breeze but firmly anchored. When young and single, my trunk was my family of origin—namely my mom and dad. They were stable, oh so…
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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…
