Birds not of a Feather

They halted our demolition of a building temporarily–two fledglings huddled in a mud and grass nest. But, when the mother hadn’t returned by the next day and the babies were peeping furiously, I was elected to raise them. Actually, the rest of my husband’s family humored me. In this heat, without a mother, they considered the two birds dead meat

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Gather Memories

Gather memories while you may. After my husband’s grandmother died, I realized how I treasured the small personal memories I had of her and I also realized how few those memories were. I didn’t want to lose even a tiny connection to my Grandma and I challenged my family to remember personal stories about her and share them now while

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Looking Back Home

Yesterday, driving up unmarked forest service trails, branches gnawed thin gray lines in the paint of our pickups. And they revealed the fissures of age in my father. Even crumpled by MS, to me, he had still appeared undaunted—this summer he clambered about using his walker to get a ladder so that he could fix the roof. He drove his

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