Days of Sheringham: Part 3

When I arrived at Heathrow Airport, Kathryn was waiting for me at the gate.  She insisted that picking me up from airport made the most sense and that it would get me to her house the fastest, helping me adjust to the time change. Since England is 8 hours ahead of California, I gladly accepted. …

Days of Sheringham: Part 2

Sunday, November 25, 2018 Perhaps it was overly ambitious to think I’d spend my time in Sheringham writing.  It’s been a busy year, to say the least.  Actually, the last five years have been a bit of a whirlwind. I’ve desperately needed some downtime.  Case in point: my New Year’s Resolution for 2018 was to…

Days of Sheringham: Part 1

Thursday, November 22, 2018 Once upon a time, not very long ago, a rogue puffin was spotted on the east coast of England, in the county of Norfolk.  This may not sound very exciting to your average person, but to me, learning this was like finding out Big Foot had just moved in down the…

Super You on the SuperMoon

There are a lot of articles circulating about the SuperMoon and how to harness the energy for personal growth and the highest self. I don’t follow astrology much, but I can tell you that I personally have a connection with the moon and pay attention to its phases. Regardless of what you believe, it’s always…

The Growing Process

How long has it been? Nine years?  Thirty-four years? Maybe a thousand glasses of wine, two thousand miles of coastal exploration and fifteen gallons of tears? Who knows. However you choose to measure it, what’s most surprising to me is the cyclical nature of growth. I’ve been analytical for as long as I can remember. …

The Act of Letting Go

Well, I did it. I released him.  I won’t call it “saying goodbye”, as I had previously written;  I will simply say I released him. I went to say goodbye.  I walked his ashes down to the water with the intention of saying goodbye, but as the ashes scattered in the wind and drifted down…

How Do You Say Goodbye Without Saying Goodbye?

I wish there had been a funeral or a memorial service.  Something. Something ceremonial or commemorative.  I feel like maybe that was the plan at one point, but the way that everything unfolded was too unpredictable and bizarre.  I don’t think anyone knew how to handle it, or wanted to handle it, or wanted to…

Shooting Star or Soulful Encounter?

The world slows to a single breath. It lingers hot on my tongue and slow on the exhale. Time ceases to exist and our eyes lock across the crowded room. There are few people in this world that draw you near, making your pulse quicken and your stomach leap into your throat; but he is…

Ghosts of He

Not while we dined, but long after she told me, I thought of him, snuggled by his mother – his little hands in hers, holding them tight while she cried, both of them seated on the couch. There was an afghan crumpled at the foot, which he spied out of the corner of his eye….

Dearest Poet of the North

Dearest Poet of the North, There have been several occasions whereby you have single-paragraphedly saved my life.  In order for you to be properly acquainted with myself, you ought to be aware of the circumstances leading up to where your words found me. My humble upbringing and lack of any real culture or exposure, never…