One of the biggest things I like when I write a story or paint a picture is that if you screw up, you can always go back and fix it. On canvass or within the story, there is always a different way, a different path. Life is partly that way too. You usually have a choice, a chance to change things.
What was I saying, when I got the news?
Was I telling a story, humming a tune?
By Nan Zastrow Submitted On March 25, 2015
He was born in Medford Oregon on July 26th, 1980 at Rogue Valley Memorial Hospital after 36 grueling hours of labor, I had turned 17 four months earlier. In fact, the same Dr. delivered Andy's Uncle Dana in the same Hospital room exactly 15 years earlier to the day forging a bond between them that would withstand a lifetime.
It’s okay to Not be okay…
Many times, when we talk or write from a place of deep emotion, we have a hard time finding the words to express what we want to say. Recently, I wrote that the second year, to me, was worse than the first. This is true and not true; I hope I can find the words to explain what I mean.
The way you feel about me doesn't define me. You will not cause me to re-think my priorities or examine my virtues. You may love, like, hate or be neutral towards me, that is your prerogative. Of course I would prefer to be looked upon as good, inspiring, or any of the positive human characteristics we know of... but it's not essential to me if I am not.
The Sun opened up like a bud
inside your heart
shining with resolute beauty
of who you are
My loving husband Howard has been gone five months. How can it already be five months? Yet sometimes it feels like 5 years. It's been a long time since I looked in to his beautiful blue eyes. Seems like forever since I held him close, smelled his after shave that I miss so much, and slept in his embrace.
