The Friendship of Grief

The Friendship of Grief

I woke to the song of mourning doves. Their soundtrack seems a part of the landscape here in the Texas Hill Country, along with the buzz of locusts on hot summer afternoons and the chirp of tree frogs in the scrub that separates our home from a fairway often inhabited...
Wings of Thanksgiving

Wings of Thanksgiving

There is a scar on the wall of our garage. Few will ever see it, even fewer know its significance. It emerged slowly, like color bleeding through whitewash on the wall of an ancient building. As the wall continues to yield to the gentle impact of a small gate, the...

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