A traveler folds her wings.
Change chooses you, and all you have to do is let it happen.
Experiences in adult potty training, a reflection on the little moments that shape us.
Continued from - "I Am a Writer" And so I was in Europe, my first time, arrived by epic adventure across an ocean, and all I could do was huddle against the damp Irish chill in my father’s down sleeping bag, glued to Caribbean weather reports on the screen of my tiny iPad. I couldn’t … Continue reading Dwelling in Ireland
Rune stones, like throwing bones, like reading tea or coins or tarot. I’m groping through this bag of smooth clay charms, hoping something else will give me an answer. Our desire for destiny, a divine plan, and our need to break the mystery. Again in transition, always in between it seems. And spun to exhaustion … Continue reading Little Steps
“A story is a meaningful pattern of events. Through finding a story’s shape within your life’s shape, you could know what your life means.” Continued from - "Valli's World, Collooney Ireland" It was 4:45. Something woke me. I think my phone buzzed, and now I had to pee. I ducked out of the mosquito net … Continue reading I Am A Writer
I am developing a roll of forgotten snapshots. I am tracing a dark line over the faded route we took when I was eight, connecting dots of scattered memories that still flash up through layers of time. It’s taken me years to return to this place. It is a good story, one I will write … Continue reading Trapped in Paradise
Just an hour from Union Island, smashing upwind, motoring at three knots, we pulled into the open bay at Mayreau. The flocks of boat boys in their brightly painted launches circled and touched down for just a second, much less insistent than in Chatham Bay. Their easy attitude left me wanting to buy something from … Continue reading Frank the Security Guard
We hiked all over that damn island! Bushwhacking with our loyal stray dogs. Two golden labs who found us on the beach and followed us all day. Compared to the rest of the island dogs they were bigger, whiter, furrier and seemingly more civilized. (Except when the young male snatched and crushed a baby chick … Continue reading Bushwacking Union Island
We were a group of five gringoes standing beside the main road, a strip of narrow, pale pavement, unlined although there were supposedly two lanes. Flexible lanes, determined by the route best to avoid potholes or other cars. Steve, the Kiwi, and Cammie from Luxembourg, both off Proxima Vida, our buddy boat. Chris, one of … Continue reading Barbados By Bus (And Mini-bus)