Where do you leave your heart?           The song says that someone left their heart in San Francisco. Some would think my heart is at the brocante. Sometimes I wonder if that could be true? But…

    Before Thanksgiving my mother and her business partner Holly closed their shop to prepare for Black Friday. As I have lived in France for a few thousand years, I haven't been around for a "Black Friday". Needless to…

    In the church in the town I grew up in are stain glass windows that were brought over from the old church before it was tore down. They are beautiful. I spent many a Sundays as a child…

  In the kitchen with my mom means homemade food, one delicious delight after another. The grandchildren know that Monday mornings mean waffles with warm maple syrup. As many as you can eat. It also means cookies… last Monday my…

  Black boots worn while walking on autumn leaves in the front yard of my mother's house. The days are crisp. The colors, a mixture of golden hues. Thanksgiving is in the air. It is good to be home. Every…

  The first and only time I ran away from home I was seven years old. I remember I was mad at my mother– why I do not remember. Though I do remember putting a few things in a brown…