Filed under The Space Between


She is one of those beautiful girls with long gorgeous hair. Naturally sexy, dark, straight, thick, shiny. Every girl lusts after it and when they comment- which they do- she gives a shy, dreamy smile & mentions that she is thinking to cut it. They reject the notion loudly, “It is too beautiful to cut!” … Continue reading

Lost Memories

There is a terrible smell in the basement. I am drawn in.  I memorize it. Stone walls, dirt floor, dull windows, tools on the wall. Now, when I encounter the smell- of dirt and mildew in murky places- I smile, taken back, happy to remember something.


“What is the antidote to resentment?”  She asked the question, eyes opening wider, almost surprising herself.  “It isn’t about finding the opposite and then composing a game plan.  It’s about finding the antidote and then making space for it; just opening up.” *** I was eight years old or maybe ten when we had Christmas … Continue reading


For a long while after we left Texas, books were my best friends.  I don’t mean this solely in an endearing “Anne of Green Gables” kind of way.  I mean it in a bare bones, borderline neurotic, vaguely concerning kind of way.   I mean that books were where I turned when I was anxious … Continue reading

Reading Rainbow

During middle school we were in interim, living in my grandparent’s house on the lake while my parents got established.  The majority of the house was filled with my grandparent’s stuff – beautiful paintings and a baby grand piano, old books in the built-in bookcases and what seemed like infinite numbers of classical music recordings. … Continue reading

The Real McCoy

  I am sad.  I am blank.  I am moving through the thick air of the day. I grieve. Nose to the grindstone.  Head above water. I’ve battened down the hatches. The truth is I’m struggling right now and I’m finding myself to be the biggest opposition.  I have an inherent need to wrap everything … Continue reading

House on the Prairie

The summer after sixth grade the lease ran out on the mustard colored house we had rented in town and my parents decided to move us to the country. I remember going with them to check out the house we would rent – it was a considerable distance from town, past the historic one-room schoolhouse … Continue reading

Family In Need

Until I was 13 years old, I never thought of us as being poor. Despite the blocks of government cheese, the roadkill deer we ate and the donated clothes, it never occurred to me that we might have much less than others. Sure, there were the kids who we occasionally went to church with in … Continue reading

Four Amys

The summer before sixth grade, we moved to a small town in southwest Minnesota.  My parents rented a large mustard-colored house on the outskirts of town.  It was the first real house I had lived in since I was two years old, having recently moved from a mobile home in Texas.  The house had a … Continue reading