Thursday, November 10, 2016


So, I was at work the other day making myself a cup of -- you know, this story would be cooler if I was making a cup of coffee, but I wasn’t.  I was making myself a cup of tea (herbal tea, actually) to help with my severely sore throat.  Well, as I’m standing there, letting the Keurig do its hot-water-magic, I noticed a headline on one of the magazines:

“Kidnapped by Pirates”

Really?  Is this still happening?  It’s 2016, are people, really, still being kidnapped by pirates?  Not even SPACE pirates...just normal pirates.  Of course, they’re not the the peg-legged, scurvy stricken, parrot-on-their-shoulder pirates that immediately jump to mind at the mention of the word.  No, these guys are armed with automatic weapons, rocket propelled grenades, and speed boats.  So...I guess they’ve kept up with the times.

Anyways, there you have it, in the 21st century we are still being kidnapped by pirates.

Wednesday, August 31, 2016


        She came in heavy.  Battered and worn, weary from the daily grind.  Feet aching almost as much as her heart.  How do you smile, knowing they only have a few more weeks together -- a few more days?  

        Little pieces.  Barely even scraps of stories; lives lived.  You touch them for moments.  Your soul and theirs; your story and theirs become entwined for that brief, little, piece of a moment.  Just a glimpse into a store window as you drive past.  Go through the motions.  Pretend you don’t see the sadness lingering behind his heavy soul, flickering in his eyes.  Pretend you don’t notice that she’s slipping, ever-so fainting slipping.  Focus on the joy of the moment.  Create smiles, laughter, happy memories and ignore the little voice whispering at the back of your mind of how much she reminds you of…
       Just a glimpse.  A moment.  A breath.

       She came in weary.  Unable to release the burden of so many souls.  They touch her, just briefly, but so, very deeply.  And she remembers them.  They drift with her, like little strands of kelp all tangled up in the same twine of netting.  She thinks of them often.  Wonders.  What of the lady who sat and chatted with her for almost an hour, about nothing really -- and about everything?  Or the little, pig-tailed girls who giggled and grinned so brightly?  

        So many glimpses of so many lives.

       She came in broken.  Her pieces gently shattered.  Shimmering and glittering with the trembles of her heavy, burdened, full soul.  She fell heavy into open arms, breathed, and was made whole.