Confessions of a Woman Learning to Live

We have given birth to a book, a children’s picture book to be exact, in collaboration with the talented Lana Kuhns, who painted the images.

Western Roads

Out through the northwest and back through the south. Nineteen states and 6,800 miles later, we are home with our hearts stretched wide.

Her voice in the telling is simple, with concrete terms and bite-sized thoughts. I appreciate that she was allowed to tell the story herself.

There is another banana-and-a-half on the banana hanger. When I am done with this one, I should probably eat those too. Soon.

Perhaps she wrote this description for Those Who Don’t Know, but perhaps too she wrote it for Those Who Do Know.

Congratulations to Rhonda, first place winner, and to Jenelle, runner-up! I have reached out privately to you both.

There is no reason for it otherwise – except that I like you and I like when you talk to me. So thank you. And enjoy.

On a night in May, an ordinary night with extraordinary meaning, my oldest son walked across a stage while we all clapped, hard.

Was I right or what? You were there, words on the tip of your tongue, not checked out or bored but crowded around waiting. I could feel you.

I can’t help feeling like some of you have Things to say, but you are not sure you want to say them. Some of you have never commented before.