Both My Parents Loved Words. That Was

Does Any Woman Ever Count The Grains Of Her Harvest And Say: Good Enough? Or Does One Always Think Of What More One Might Have Laid In, Had The Labor Been Harder, The Ambition More Vast, The Choices More Sage?

Here We Are, Alive, And You And I Will Have To Make It What We Can.

I'm A Praying Atheist. When I Hear An Ambulance Siren, I Ask For A Blessing For Those People In Trouble, Knowing That No One's Listening. I Think It's Just A Habit Of Mindfulness.

You Go On. You Set One Foot In Front Of The Other, And If A Thin Voice Cries Out, Somewhere Behind You, You Pretend Not To Hear, And Keep Going.

I Was Not 15 Anymore, And Choices No Longer Had That Same Clear, Bright Edge To Them.