As I Age

As I age and wisdom reveals itself in silvery strands of gray and memories bittersweet, I see with crinkled eyes all that the dewy innocence of youth hid from me. With each encroaching wrinkle I laugh at the dread once felt to reach this place. There is nothing to fear, only freedom as I finally … More As I Age

Birthday Thoughts

Fifty-seven. How in the world can I be turning fifty-seven? I can remember so clearly standing in front of the bathroom mirror in the house I grew up in on the morning of my sixteenth birthday, scrutinizing my as yet unlined face, feeling ancient and wondering what I would look like when I reached the … More Birthday Thoughts


When will the day come- not too far away- to let my hair reclaim it’s true shade? To welcome the freedom of silvery strands, proudly gray? The time to let go of unnecessary worries and embrace this precious, fleeting moment? Wisdom hard won, love hard fought. In youth we fear age, run from it, kicking … More Gray

On a Whole New Sexy

At the ripe old age of fifty-six, I have reached an entirely epic new level of Poppins sexy with the addition of the torture device known as compression hose. I had a procedure done last Thursday on some uncomfortable very gross veins…oh, wait- that’s what Dan thought they were called when he was a kid. … More On a Whole New Sexy


I have written so much about my mother, always trying to portray her as the imperfect and very real woman that she was. To me, her imperfections and quirkiness were what made her special and so very strong. After all of these years, maybe I’m finally allowing myself that same understanding. I have struggled unsuccessfully … More Imperfect

The Blink of an Eye

In the blink of an eye my youth is gone; Instead of dewey innocence, lines of laughter, tears, and time etch my brow. Where did life go? I refuse to utter words of complaint, though; Each and every day has brought with them lessons, Wisdom gained through pain and loss…and joy. While my outer shell … More The Blink of an Eye

The Scorched Earth

As I look out at the scorched earth of a Southern summer, Somnolent bees nuzzling thirsty petals in the lazy breeze, I wipe the sweat from my brow, grateful for this season of life. I am in my own summer, youth no longer at my beck and call. I feel the whispers of fall, the … More The Scorched Earth