Remembering

Some days are meant for remembering
I awoke late this morning
after a restless night's sleep
a glance at my Facebook wall
revealed a two-year-old picture
my mom had shared
of our family with Jason
at the Cascade Aids walk.

Poetry

A Garden Path

Garden path

Our home sits at the top of a long sloping hill. In front of the house is a steep area. The previous owners put down weed block and covered the hill in lavender. It's beautiful, but I don't like weed block. It suffocates the soil and doesn't allow the natural flow of nutrients. It also meant anything in the way of wood chips ended up at the bottom of the area. It was also almost impossible to navigate.

Confession

Dear Reader,

I have a confession to make. I come, and I go. I share and then disappear. Sometimes, I wonder if it's all worth it.

You see, I struggle with what seems are inner demons - those voices inside telling me I'm bad, useless, a failure. Hmmm, that's not even accurate.

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