The scents of ground nutmeg and grated orange peels mingle as I cradle my coffee cup at my chin. White chocolate and cream, cinnamon and every scent of fall floods my senses.
On May 31 of last year I walked into a grocery store to pick up a prescription and ended up with a baby.
While walking the beach in Fort Morgan, Ala., I see young women who are thin and tan. They wear bikinis and an air of self-assurance. Their long hair is pulled back in ponytails or piled on top of their heads with big plastic clips.
I'd never seen a gun. That is, until I saw him.
Spring is a great time to open the windows and clear out the dust and disorder that might have crept in your home during the cold winter months. But with longer days and increased sunshine, spring also can signal the time for some internal spring cleaning.
If I could do it all again, I would do everything different. Instead of worrying about flowers, I should have stopped and smelled them. Instead of counting calories, I would have counted my blessings. In place of memorizing how many steps to the altar, I wished I would have kicked my shoes off and ran toward him.
A split bean. A shoebox. Dr. Suess. Strange as it may sound, these words are what come to mind when I think of the holiday season.
This month I turn 50. As in, half a century. As in, at least half of my life is gone. It sounds depressing, and in some ways I guess it is. But for the most part, it feels like a gift.
You never know when those you love most in life will be taken away. It could be cancer or an automobile accident. Or it could be a monster that descends from the sky, the way one did on Sunday, May 22, in Joplin, Mo.