The Sense of an Ending
When the last child leaves, wondering if I was a good enough mother. There are no do overs.
Everything Changes, Nothing is Lost
Facing the natural changes of aging, the inevitable losses.
When the last child leaves, wondering if I was a good enough mother. There are no do overs.
Here at the beach, in this place of liminality, of the meeting between consciousness and unconsciousness, between solid ground and mutable water, I stand on a similar threshold.
Writing as both vocation and career.
Facing the natural changes of aging, the inevitable losses.