My Journal
Where I share my thoughts in words.
the bomber jacket
( a story set in vintage times)There was a hole the size of a saucer in the bomber jacket. Allison Jean Hopkins stared at it and wanted to weep. The steamy finishing room was almost intolerable by this time of day, and her frustration meter was already in the red...
coffeehouse surprise
Bistro tables scattered at angles on a plank floor. Book-lined shelves flanking a stone fireplace. Leather chairs placed in little nooks. A glossy counter scuffed with years of scrapes from coffee mugs. Normally, it was the kind of place that Rayne Hartwell would...
a police escort
Gracie Peters pushed the gas pedal harder and fought against her better judgment. A girl had a right to a trip now and then, even if it was only to see her sister-in-law in the next state. Ka-thump. She put her ear close to the window. A flat tire? She craned...
a yellow umbrella
It's a bit fanciful, a bit fairytale-ish, but still fun. This little story was inspired by my own mother's fondness for this Norman Rockwell original as well as my personal sentiment for the romance of rainy days. Enjoy. Rae powered off the computer and glanced...
it’s brilliant
There is something shining about love, more specifically, about romance. Even little children recognize it. You've seen them giggle delightedly when the bride and groom kiss, turning their little eyes away from the brightness of the moment. The sheer glory...
White Castle on a Winter’s Eve
sliders by the sack I work the night shift; eleven to seven. That means I see a sampling of the people, vocations and tragedies in my city. Nurses on their way home from the ER or surgery or cancer ward stop for a high-carb snack. Garbage truck drivers come in...
time to ponder
I rubbed my swollen stomach and grimaced as my foot slipped on a loose stone in the road. Dust swirled around my sandals and clung to my clothing. The crowd of people traveling with us grew with each mile. Surely that meant we were nearing our destination. By sheer...
silent night
Christmas Eve. Sure enough, not a creature was stirring, but that was because it was 11:00 pm in the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit of Parkland Memorial Health Center and the little ones were too sick to be active. McKendra Gordon sank into an empty swivel chair at...
a gift in words
The library had a different kind of quiet today. Emma could feel the holiday spirit just under the surface in the youngsters who jostled past her desk on their way to the children’s department. Christmas was only 3 weeks away, and the town was bursting with holiday...
christmas in a mason jar
(an old-fashioned tale of the season)It started quite simply, as many times these things do. A quart of soup in a Mason canning jar seems such an insignificant thing but don’t try to say that to a little farming community in the Midwest. They won’t hear you. They...
