Battle Scars

There's battle scars on all my guitars but I still come out here and play - Ozma At this point, I've given up on the idea that any one of these surgeries will cure me.  When people smile and say lovely things like, "It's so great, after this surgery you'll be better!"  I smile and... Continue Reading →

Young Love

I should preface this by saying I'm too old for this now, and I need to stop staying up way past my bedtime, but I can't help it.  Maybe it's something about wandering around, barefoot on linoleum in men's pajama pants that gets my creative juices flowing.  This is the time of night where I'll... Continue Reading →

Run

Airports. They’re all well and good and exciting until you’ve got a four hour delay ahead of you.  Stuck elbows deep in poorly made frappacinos and rumpled US Weekly’s… I am waiting for the plane to touch down. I’m on the phone, arguing with the latest entry in a long line of mistakes.  My fingers... Continue Reading →

Nineteen

The first time I heard this song, you were stretched out on your back in the emptied out shell of Charlie’s van.  The three of us had stayed out all night, and come sun up, bleary-eyed and drunk on adventure, you were driving me back to my dorm room.  Lying down in the spot where... Continue Reading →

One.

Every mother has one story about each child that, over and over, they still love to tell. In this one, I am standing in the grocery store, maybe four years old - up to her knees or so - and I tug on her jeans. “Mommy! Mom! Moooooom!” I say, eyes full and round. She... Continue Reading →

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