Central Massachusetts I can picture nearly every detail of my mother’s hands. Her long, slender fingers. The shape of her nails. The freckles sprinkled across her olive skin. I can picture her knuckles and the faint lines of age that scatter like rivers of time across the once smooth surface. I think of all the...
Central Massachusetts The last of the fall leaves drift to the ground. The now naked trees show their age in gray branches covered in scabby lichen. How long the trees have stood here, I do not know. Long enough to decline. Long enough to nearly die. With roots laced deeply in the rocky earth, still...
I’ve spent the year reading whatever I want; it’s wonderful. As soon as I’m knee-deep into one great read, I learn of another. I read this book simply for my love of Tolkien and Lewis — and was happily surprised to learn about so much more. For the Love of History I didn’t realize how...
such a beautiful, beautiful tribute. I once wrote about my hands, and how they have aged. Our hands, as mothers, wives, friends, reach out in love, care and work. You have beautiful hands, as does your Mom. <3 Cathi
<3 <3 <3