Gunga’s Ring

This is Gunga’s ring. It goes to you when I die. It is something my mother said to me at least a thousand times over the course of her life, each time pointing to the antique diamond ring she wore on her right hand, a ring that had belonged to her grandmother, a...

joie de vivre

The month of February was a difficult one, but it was also filled with such a wash of blessings I am still overflowing. This was one of the first: a sweet bouquet of pink tulips delivered by my daughter, sent to me from the extraordinary group of friends who now...

Heaven Smiles Over Clemson

It had been a glorious day, perfect for football, dear friends, hugs from an endless parade of Eliza’s precious college friends. We were walking back from a visit to Old Mr. Knickerbocker’s (a little impromptu Christmas shopping—promises the new sweatshirt...

Taking the Exit

A year ago, this would not have occurred to me. Or to be more truthful, it would have occurred to me but I would have quickly brushed the thought aside with an “I really don’t have the time… .” Things have changed in my life, mostly because I am now...

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