Neighbor’s question shines light on our different family

“Where do you get your pretty blue eyes from?” a neighbor asked Daughter, looking at her and then over to me. “Certainly not from you,” she peered into my dark brown eyes. Daughter and I both paused. We travel through our daily lives like most mothers and daughters, loving and annoying each other. It’s moments like these that make us stop. They remind us of what was so obvious to the neighbor. We look nothing alike. They remind us that our family

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Rescued Poinsettia plant takes root in husband’s undying love

It’s the kind of love you root for.      You know that top notch person you adore who just hasn’t found her person?      That was the story with an old friend and work colleague of mine.      The beauty of social media as we lived in different cities and took different career paths meant I could follow along as she found love later in life.      This friend’s new husband clearly adored her. That was evident from the photos

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The Holidays Are Dead To Me & Other Things That Make Me Happy

The holidays are dead to me.      Which is a big reason this is one of the best times of the year. By “dead,” I actually mean THE dead, as in those who have passed.      I love how they have a way of taking a seat at my holiday table. Something tells me they might be at yours, as well.      From the moment I pull my grandmother’s pressed glass serving pieces from the cabinet that came from great

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When Mother’s Day Means Being The One Who Let’s Her Go

This is to be Mother’s Day? Sure doesn’t feel like it’s supposed to go down. I find myself thinking about that this week. A lot. I read countless posts about daughters celebrating with their mothers. About bountiful brunch feasts. About women so thankful to hold their children close. Then, I look around. At my holiday. This year. This Mother’s Day. The first without my mother who passed last August. There will be no celebrating with her, I tell myself. Over

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What I Really Want My Late Mother To Say To Me

My mother has cancer. It has metastasized to her forehead. Her eyebrow, actually. She’s in pain. And she’s pissed. This is all horrifying. Sad. And, interesting. Interesting, because my mother passed away last August. I’m living what you might know, Dear Reader. You, who has said goodbye to someone you love. Someone who is gone, just not really gone. And so, it is, these nights, that my mother shows up in dreams. This happens about once a week. She’s angry.

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There’s Never Enough Time When You Love Someone

By popular demand, I’m re-posting this column on time and love which ran last July so that it shows up on this WordPress site.  Please catch my newspaper column each week in the Atlanta Journal Constitution, the Dayton Daily News and other newspapers across Ohio. A stranger took my breath away this week. What would you do if a woman you just met told you, “I’m really not a risk taker,” followed by, “I married a man who told me on our first date

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Never Enough Time When You Love Someone

A stranger took my breath away this week. What would you do if a woman you just met told you, “I’m really not a risk taker,” followed by, “I married a man who told me on our first date that he only had 18 months to live.” “How’d that work out for you?” I couldn’t help but ask. “He lived 18 more years past that first date. We were married for 15 of those,” Brenda Zimmer Gibson told me. “They

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