Sometimes, it’s not your river. You realize that after all this time treading water, fighting the current, trying to keep from being swept away, all you ever had to do was step out of it onto the shore. My friend is in a river of muck. A figurative river. I myself had been in one…
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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…
