From across the country, I watch my nephew’s family on their adventures, outings to the beach, fun times with friends. In the faces of his children, I see my brother’s face, my sister’s. They are all blond, thin and sturdy, healthy kids, outdoor kids, I can tell from here. I see them and their mom. I don’t see my nephew.
I know that right now he needs to be somewhere else.
So I don’t question, don’t inquire. I long ago learned that I don’t need to know everything.
It isn’t my place to ask questions with difficult answers.
No one needs to explain their lives to me. Their decisions. Their living situation.
I am glad just to see such bright little faces. Just now, another post.
We’re here, the post says to me. We’re here and well and living life.
Me, too, I think. Me, too.
All of us in our different places.
|Deb on The End of Mean Charlie|
|beth on The End of Mean Charlie|
|beth on Old Beautiful Debts|
|beth on Sisterhood|
|Mary Jo Hultman on Sisterhood|
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What happens here on Red's Wrap is all over the map. There is no single theme, no overarching gripe, no malady of my own or others that dominates. I write about what seems important or interesting at the moment and what aims me toward hope. I write stories, essays, poems - whatever fits the day and the mood. Nothing stays the same, here or anywhere. That's a good thing. Happiness. It's relative.
(c) Janice Wilberg and Red’s Wrap (2010-2023). Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this site’s author/owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Janice (Jan) Wilberg and Red’s Wrap with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.