Late again

I cried in the car on the way home this morning. One of those mornings you hope a neighbor isn’t traveling the same route you are. And I’m writing about it not in a fit of self-pity (oh, I detest those) but because in this universal human experience, I am sure I am not alone….

The scarlet letter

I know of only one way through life and that is forward. Not so good at standing still or moving backward. But it has not always been so. As a child, I was a tiny slip of a thing. Pale, bookish and shy, an anxious observer of life rather than much of a participant. If…