Short Stories – Poetry – Writing Tips – Reflections from the heart
An old Chinese proverb states that the finest memory is not so firm as faded ink. So as I find myself aging, I decided to record some of my memories – before they fade beyond recall. Yet even as I pen these memoirs I can’t help but wonder why the unbosomings of an ordinary old housewife would interest anyone.
Continue reading “He Shot the Dog”
It’s the Sound of Silence
It sighs on the wind The voice of calm serenity Whispers in the treetops Calling, peace be stillContinue reading “The Sound of Silence”
She walked a lonely road, a water jug hoisted on her shoulder, that Samaritan woman. During the most intense heat of the day she made the trek, her solitary trek, to the village well. Only after the others had returned to their own homes did she venture out. They didn’t welcome her company. No more than she, knowing they despised her, cared for theirs.
Continue reading “Forever Changed: A Short Story”
Sitting here at the kitchen table, I hear the shepherd who lives uphill start his delapidated truck. It seems quieter this time. He might have fixed it since our last visit. Or our closed windows might muffle the rattle.
Continue reading “The Village Morning [Five Minute Friday]”
I’m grateful to no longer live in the land of always winter – that was my home state of Michigan. (At least that’s how it often seemed!) Always winter, but with Christmas! I much prefer southern Italy, where winters are mild and rare snow quickly melts. Only in our distant mountains does it last all winter.
Continue reading “Embracing Life’s Winter”
As a child, I remember my father pouring over the Daily News, our area’s newspaper. Every evening, as ours wasn’t a morning edition, he’d sit in his easy chair, newspaper in hand. Slippers on his feet.
Continue reading “Italian Newspapers: Thoughts of the Past”
Signora Sheila 