After an election as volatile as this past one, we may find ourselves standing on opposite sides of a line drawn in the sand.
For many reasons, I’ll admit that January, despite my best efforts to launch into the new year with enthusiasm, has felt slow to me—a place where I am in a bit of limbo. I’ve got a book proposal out and am eagerly awaiting news from publishers.
I got in my Lyft ride on Saturday to go back to my car, and my driver said, “Are you part of the protest?” I immediately replied, “No! Not at all. I was here to stand with others for our civil rights; I was part of a march to move forward.”
Ever since my beloved Richard died ten years ago, I've never wanted anyone to pity me. From day one, I knew that this was no accident without beauty; I knew, even then, that it carried deep power for my soul growth.
When you see a three-horned monster, RUN!
But otherwise, no matter what’s in front of you, just stand still and breathe.
Every new year I ask the divine, “What is my word to embrace this year as a thread to guide me along my journey in this new beginning?”
As you know, this month of December carries so many poignant memories for me--and for my girls, too.
Honestly, I generally don’t like to remember December 13th. It’s a day laden with heavy memory, a marker of grief. This year, though, that day marked the tenth anniversary of Richard’s transition--of “our” transition--and I wanted to commemorate him.
We are individuals, each living life our own individual way. Every single day, we make choices--some conscious and some unconscious--that affect us. Day-in and day-out, we live a series of habits that become our way of life.
My Dearest Richard,
December 13th… I am in awe that it’s been ten years on this journey without you.
I was shopping with a girlfriend the other day, and I had a funny moment at one of my favorite stores.
As I was browsing around, suddenly one of those helpful female clerks caught me by surprise as she said, "Oh, did you know you are in the petite section, ladies?"