Daddy and Me I lost my father last week to a cascade of medical complications over the past four months. I feel as though I’ve just gotten off a too fast, yet too long roller coaster—wobbly, shaken on the inside, and numb. My daddy had this way about him. Gentle, good, and kind. He relished the little things like ricotta nestled in his plate of rigatoni, a dog wanting petting from him, or sitting on the porch during the rain. We would talk about stuff, big plans, little plans, it didn’t matter. He made it all feel important and gave his advice. We’d cook together, clean together, do projects together. My husband and I would take him to local festivals and shops and wherever. We enjoyed his enjoyment—his celebration of life. He instilled that same celebration of the important things in me. I know that when I take the time to savor a type of candy we both favored that a part of him will survive and be with me. Right...
Griffin: Artist's Rendition Epic fantasy has become my sole writing style this year. My focus: The fifth book of the World In-between Series, Hope . Beginning ten years after the end of Whispers (Book 4), the story centers around the magical struggles of Berty’s seventeen-year-old niece. Since she first crossed the portal ten years ago, Hope straddled two worlds—the mundane modern world and the magical world between the portals. As a Wood Listener, she struggles to find her place in life. Unbeknownst to her uncle, her parents, and her innocent friend trailing her, Hope stoles into the other side only to find her place fraught with danger. For your reading pleasure: a sneak peek of Chapter 2. Hope climbed the stairs of the quiet outpost. She figured that not many guards occupied a peacetime outpost, especially one out in the middle of nowhere. The second door on the left sat open. She knocked. “Yes?” came from beh...
A look up the beach Approaching Hispaniola, the second largest island of the Greater Antilles shared by the nations of Haiti and the Dominican Republic, by air, we get our first glance at the lush green mountains that give way to lush flatlands. Farmland backs into cities. We lose sight of the ocean as the plane descends. The Punta Cana International Airport promises us a magical tropical stay. As we walk under its palm frond roof to stand in line at customs, air conditioning is relatively non-existent. The baggage carousel is mostly open-air as the walls don’t reach the roof. I, however, am more concerned with my bag not taking the ride yet. Once it finally showed, we rolled our bags to the shuttle that would take us to our resort. From the airport to the resort, our shuttle drove past beautiful new construction and crumbling shacks. Tropical trees turned into shopping centers. Gates to private communities and sprawling resorts sat...
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