Oh, it’s magical. I see you on your unicorn followed by a trial of sparkles and serenaded by oohs and ahhs. You make it look so easy because, well, it is easy, isn’t it. Your special thing.
I am ten and it is late October in Waterloo, Iowa and it is the last Halloween that I know I can officially go out and trick or treat. I am at that age—next year I will just be too old…
I have a spot reserved in my heart for the small voice that speaks at the exact moment the yammering crowd silences –when the noise parts and the small voice says the thing everyone is to afraid to say—and usually the last thing I want to admit.
Drowning and Swimming – both involve water and splashing about but, of course, you’d never confuse the two. You may think that’s a ridiculous statement but reflect a moment: there are choices you make, things you decide to do that make you sink like a stone in life yet you tell yourself that they represent forward motion.
by Jill MacGregor The measure of who we are is what we do with what we have. ~Vince... Read More
I have found myself running into the girl I used to be lately. You may think that must mean some carefree version of myself, untethered by serious adult themes but that would not be the case.
I’ve definitely gotten younger as I’ve gotten older.
The Incredible Force and other childhood games.
Shove me into spectacular.
And genius—dip me in some genius.
Smack me with astonishing.
Elbow me into marvelous.
There are points in your life when you want things to be different and you feel like you don’t get much say in the matter. The all consuming desire for that which eludes you…
Sometimes when I am painting, I think my canvas may bow in the middle like a cheap swing set—a result of all of the layers of paint that are resting on it.
You are a puzzle, my friend, a fascinating puzzle. You are one surprise after another, just like those crazy Russian nesting dolls. You’ve been clever and intricate with how you’ve bound up that heart of yours.