As if ghosts remembering games once played. On this aging gridiron, two goalposts silently. Standing are my only witnesses; early July. I stepped onto the little known field at an obscure. Middle school, cleats laced, warmed up. The ball against the homemade tripod, prepared. Three steps back, two over. Same as I had done since the beginning of last. I imagined the holder screaming Hut,.

My Mind Made Public -. I held off as long as I could . Thursday, August 13, 2009. I will no longer be posting at this location, so head on over to www. And join in on the conversation! For those of you who subscribe to this blog, there is a new subscription button on the new site.

I wonder what happens to those people who live their entire lives without experiencing a significant tragedy. When they hug someone, do they hug like we do? When they encounter someone who has been completely wrecked by something, do they have that point of reference that some of us do, that permanent and unfixable moment when life changed? The one we dredge up and experience again, just for that split second when we know that someone else is hurting in the same way we hurt? He says we.

For a list of prices and services, please email Joy at. Tuesday, August 9, 2011. Finally figured out the slide show feature to my Zenfolio site. Thursday, July 28, 2011. This is my act of worship. Which is totally right, and made me love them even more! I LOVED every minute of it.

I will not unlock my eyes. I nestle in the sunshine, clutching it. I want to linger in its delicate warmth. I want to linger in its radiating newness. I can dream in this light. I can wallow in possibility. I pull the covers even closer, shielding my face from inevitability. I peek as the sun is sitting high. I see the hour hand make its mark. I fear and loathe the clock.