mother

Norma

My daughter answered the phone. Her voice went up an octave, and her face forced a smile, as if the caller could see her and she needed to convey welcome. Translation? She had no idea who she was talking with. But, a well-trained clergy kid who can make small talk with the best of them, she chatted with whomever was calling her grandmother. I watched from Mom’s kitchen, trying to guess the caller’s identity while Mom slept in the living room, unawakened by the ringing phone.
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Walk your block

I watched the red tail lights move down the block until they turned East at the end of our street. The dark was that of night, but the traffic was less at 5.40 am. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a couple walking down the middle of my street, following in the path of those lights. “What a peaceful time to walk,” I thought, and then remembered the hour. Continue reading →