With the holidays once again bursting everywhere, like many of you, I get nostalgic for those I miss that are no longer here. It got me thinking about grief. They say loss heals with time, and I think that is true. The pain is nowhere as acute as in the beginning. But the rest remains. That is how it is with my mother, who died in 2013. We were so close we were like one person, so at her passing, it took me a long time to feel whole again. But she is still with me, especially right now. She loved the Christmas holidays. I think of her on a daily basis. I suspect I always will. Lately I have been doing more poetry, and I hope to put together a book of sonnets. Here is the first one
The Little Voice It was one of those rare times in your life when everything felt golden. You’d been through the worst of it, and you’d come out shining. Nothing could touch you now. You got it. You’d learned. You knew how to navigate life’s land mines. I was 38. I had survived a gut retching divorce. My son, who was born five weeks premature and spent two weeks in the hospital, was now nine years old, and smart, healthy and thriving. I was married to a man I had fallen in love with at first sight. He was moving up in his dream job as the technical director of a theatre, and was well respected in his profession. We were finally able after renting for the last six years to buy a hom
