Smiling Hearts and Butterfly Kisses

To be a child is to know what carefree is. Even under the ever watchful eyes of a parent, the default is to exist with reckless abandon. ...

**Memory can be a tricky little beast. Hazy in half moments, devastatingly unclouded some others. This is a work of non-fiction, though th...

It’s the morning following my 36 th birthday and I arise not feeling hungover. I shuffle about wiping sleep from my eyes and go about ...

The following is something I wrote a while back. I'm sharing it not because I feel that way today, because I feel quite the opposite in...

Sometimes I'm here at my little blogging cyberplace and I find my self feeling vulnerable. Dear Diary-ing my way through the page. C...

Mayo and pickles, again. My stepmom woke me up, hurried and excited. “Get up! You’re late, let’s go!” I am 8 years old and it d...

Again, due to circumstance this is later than I anticipated. But I'm sharing anyways because if these itty bitty glimpses compel you ...