When you wish you had a do-over for today

I stand over a sink of dirty dishes washing pasta sauce off the blue and white plates we’ve had since we got married. I scrape at left over noodles and rinse hot water and soap bubbles over my hands, cups, and this difficult day. Before we owned these plates,...
Mama’s Boy

Mama’s Boy

It’s used in condescension. The name for sissies and weaklings who haven’t outgrown their mother’s skirts. It resents the boy that clings longer, harder, tighter than he should. It is a label, sticky and hard to peel off. But sometimes the boy is...
Why I Sing in the Dark

Why I Sing in the Dark

Click to hear an audio recording of: “Why I Sing in the Dark” by Lisa-Jo, The Gypsy Mama Sometimes a song drops into your soul. And it’s as warm as the sun shining out of the chaos at midnight as a friend tic, tack, toe types beauty out of bedlam by the...
You can’t make this stuff up

You can’t make this stuff up

We flew home from Guatemala and Compassion International late Sunday afternoon. On Monday this arrived for me in the mail. And then today, another one. The first dated July 17th and the other August 18th. One for the email I sent him and one for the birthday card,...
The only virus worth catching

The only virus worth catching

Lost. Even though I am sitting on my own bed under the duvet we’ve had since Pete and I got married, I don’t quite know how to find my way back home. Stranded – in between countries – it’s where I’ve spent most of my life. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Soweto,...