All smashed up

All smashed up

Well, I got it all smashed up last night. No, not from hitting a glass ceiling or doing fancy things with avocados. The passenger mirror on our family van. And I did it with an audience – not just two of my boys in the back of the car, but the six or so workmen in the...
There is a certain sort of lonely

There is a certain sort of lonely

There is a certain sort of lonely There is a certain sort of lonely – of the quiet house with the sleeping child the silent child the sick child. The lonely of “if only”…. There is a certain sort of noise – of unspoken questions with angry looks hurt upon...