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How Peloton Helped Our Marriage
This past July, we added a new member to our family—a Peloton bike. Eric had been a spinning enthusiast for years while I preferred running. We both missed going to the gym, and we knew we needed to reclaim our exercise routines for our health. The weeks before our bike arrived, Eric counted the days and joined the app. He ordered shoes, weights, and headphones while I took a reluctant, it’s not running, but I’ll give it a try attitude. The morning it arrived was like Christmas for Eric. The delivery men put it together outside due to Covid-19. Then Eric and I carried it upstairs to our new workout…
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The Extraordinary Ordinary Day
On an ordinary day, an elderly neighbor ventures out alone hoping to be seenOn an ordinary day, sunlight streams through a windowOn an ordinary day, a teacher puts on a mask On an ordinary day, a heart beats 100,000 times On an ordinary day, cars sit at a stoplightOn an ordinary day, butterfly wings, flutter to flowersOn an ordinary day, a sip of hot coffee brings a smile On an ordinary day, a heart beats 100,000 times On an ordinary day, a nurse comforts a patientOn an ordinary day, an apple hangs from a branchOn an ordinary day, a dog curls up on a lap On an ordinary day, a…
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Beautiful Home
Beautiful Home Sunlight peeks through the shade. Birds break into song. My first thought is of the homemade blueberry muffins sitting on the kitchen counter, waiting to be paired with a hot cup of coffee.
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A Slice Of Life
This month I decided to change it up a bit and write fiction.
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The Peaceruiner Meets His Match
My husband and I walked hand in hand around the block. Sweat dripped from his forehead; even at sunset, summer in Florida is brutal. A mourning dove cooed, rabbits hopped through the empty lots. The burrowing owls had made another nest across the street. My mind wandered to four months earlier. We were different then.
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The Good Girl
The Good Girl I pounded on the apartment door! My babysitter had locked me out and was alone with my baby brother. I kicked, screamed, tried to climb through the kitchen window, called him whatever names my eight-year-old self knew. I had been playing outside, wanted to come in, and he locked me out. Every moment I had felt powerless in those eight years of life, collected, and spewed out of me with a fierce passion to right a wrong. Babysitters weren’t supposed to lock children out of their homes.
