Happiness. It's relative.
We set out to find my husband’s parents’ graves. We hadn’t been back to the cemetery in suburban Chicago since his father’s death 12 years ago. So we drove there today, GPS’d our way to the cemetery’s gates and then parked in front of… Continue Reading “Finding Them”
We had gotten along okay, my father-in-law and me. He liked that it didn’t bother me that he called me Babe and sometimes Doll. I never mind it when older guys use terms like that, it offends my feminist soul not at all; to… Continue Reading “What Are The Chances?”
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