A Child, A Cemetery, A Ghost Story

cemetery missouri

“What’s it like to be dead?” she asked him, her voice barely above a whisper.
She tried to imagine it when he didn’t respond. She thought it would be cold. Lonely. Much like her life now. She rubbed her arms as the breeze became a cold wind, gusting against her. She fell against Johnny’s stone, hugging it to keep herself upright.

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A Daughter's Reflections on Mother's Day

“Children are not things to be molded but rather people to be unfolded.” I open the box of goodies my daughter has sent me for Mother’s Day and delight in the surprises she’s included. My attempts to cook after I’ve had a glass or two of wine are legendary in…

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