Silky tendrils would slink in and twist around my thoughts and memories, wrapping them in darkness…

Two summers ago, the frog chorus by our pond helped me understand that my personal ecosystem might not be doing so well…

In my mid-40s, a therapist friend noted my bookshelf lined with self-help books. Neatly organized, based on subject…

We tell ourselves so many small stories about who we and others are. So many tiny tales of what the world could be…

I know I am enough! Why? Simply because I am me…

The woman I show up as on a video screen is not the same woman who…

While we are born with 10,000 taste buds, the number decreases…

How could the intensity of my grief for my dog outweigh that for my mother?…

It’s weird to consider how many permanent goodbyes might be said today…

It is time. I never know when it will arrive, but the time is now...

All week, reminders that I am rowing north along a labyrinth of rivers...

Birthdays are random events for me as I get older; I never know how I will react...

Everyone should write a blog, every day, even if no one reads it. There are countless reasons why it’s a good idea...

The trouble with having a change of scene is you get there and find you feel just the same...

She realized she had packed sneakers to climb Mount Everest, not anticipating the crevices and chasms that constitute the rocky terrain of old age.

Retirement began last September. We have come full circle, shifting how we live...

This past week was spent sorting through quotes and articles I have collected...

I quietly slip out of the house into the misty, early morning…

My mother died three years ago this week. Although she was 86 years old, her death was unexpected…

“darling,
you heavy
because you are
too full of the truth…”