Coming home, the flood gates up, the river swells, stirring memories buried under the years of living abroad. It never fails each and every time I come home- Memories are recalled, explored and seen anew. More often than…

    My dad's shop use to be the milking barn but when I was fourteen he stopped dairy farming and went into motorcycles. He kept farming rice, and went riding on the weekends. My dad had many different motorcycles,…

The five younger nieces, the original long hair contest group: Molly, Marie, Gina, Maci and Kate.  The photo was taken six months ago.        

    A flower in her hair, pink sweet little bloom. My nieces looked through their yearbooks, graduation is this weekend, Molly graduates from the eighth grade, Marie and Gina from high school, and Sam from University. They have grown,…

  Coming home to familiarity is a gift I hold close to heart. My mother's hand is creative, nothing is for not, everything has a place: The glass sugar bowl in the cupboard on the bottom shelf to the right,…

  My mother lives down a paved lane, where along the sides are of dirt and gravel, followed by a fence, then fields. It is on the outskirts of town.   "Since there is no structure to stand out from…