SHARING A DISCOUNT CARD BY JENNIFER GURNEY
sharing a discount card I still see all the groceries you last bought
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sharing a discount card I still see all the groceries you last bought
Read MoreShe was tired. Eventually, she had to say something. “Hon,” he called from the den; “Come see what I just found.” She was comfy on her couch reading a novel she’d been trying to get to for months, but he was so excited that she...
Read MorePosted by admin | Sep 15, 2025 | Non-Fiction | 0 |
Remember how we played together as children? What fun we had twisting your features and communicating without words. My personal favorite was your pout, a combination of petulance and innocence. Particularly useful for avoiding...
Read MoreYou see it when the grandkids begin to grow Death is around the corner Why put on a facade? Aren’t we all at least a little afraid to die? You can prepare as if you’re a big shot The old expert about life It’s a nice costume to...
Read MorePosted by admin | Sep 15, 2025 | Non-Fiction | 0 |
“Mon-te-rey,” I stretched each syllable out slowly; “The aquarium. Seals. Watching waves crash against the rocks. What better way to recharge for the new year? And it’s only an hour and a half from our home.” “Zachary hasn’t...
Read MoreAs the New Year arrives wars are raging on two or three continents, minor skirmishes that rarely make the headlines erupt in a half dozen places. From Ukraine to Israel to Gaza sieges, famines, massacres. The world is becoming...
Read Morefor Marjorie Agosin Those voices that persisted, invaded your dreams, insisted on their stories. The mothers of the Plaza de Mayo who speak to their disappeared children each day, hold faded photographs, dancing alone. The young...
Read MoreIt was a private conversation when my Dad was giving praise. Softly dancing words under bushy eyebrows and glinting grey eyes, almost a smile, head angled slightly, he just barely leaned forward ...
Read MorePosted by admin | Sep 12, 2025 | Non-Fiction | 0 |
I grasp the tool of my trade. The scalpel is always the first step. My breast is filled with anticipation, not fear. I am part of a tradition that began when man first walked the earth. Perhaps on the plains of Mesopotamia, an...
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