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The Back Roads with my Dad
Down the lane we followed the blue sky with its white cotton candy clouds. My Dad said, "Hop…
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Guest Blogger: My brother Mathew Amaro
The secluded path on campus, near the creek, was dark that February afternoon. The recent storm was on its way North. I caught a glimpse of her eyes among the…
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The Heart
The voice of compassion speaks from a wounded heart. The heart that knows the price of love. The one that understands that love does…
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Out of the Mouth of Babes
My brother's four-year-old daughter was playing by his side while he was tinkering in his shop. At one point he accidentally dropped…
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The Back Door
The back door is the front door in my childhood home. Everyone uses it except people who are selling something, or those…
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Hen and Chickens
Do certain things remind you of someone? Hen and Chickens remind me of my Mom. Hen…
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Family Affair
Yesterday I called home to confirm to my parents our flight information. My little nieces and nephew where there. I had already…
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Le Train Bleu. A Tale of Romance.
The table was set. Crystal clear and inviting. He had ordered her favorite flowers. Pink and delicate like her lips. His coat…her hat, the details fell into place. Her bare…
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Le Train Bleu
Above the train tracks of Gare de Lyon sits one of my favorite places in Paris. Le Train Bleu. It is a tradition of ours to have a drink there…
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Life’s Dance
After John's death, life seemed to spin in a different circle; questioning the meaning of life became my new pastime, along with spewing angry words…
Categories
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- Living in France
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- Willows, Memories from Back Home