Tag Archives: Writing

The Search (Part 2)

*** “Lauren, I need you to talk to me,” Detective Riley said after a few minutes. “How did Selah get to the arboretum?” “I don’t know.” “Did you see Selah at the arboretum?” “Yes, we played hide and seek,” I … Continue reading

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The Search (Part 1)

Detective Riley gave me a cold bottle of water and sat down in the chair across from me. The room was dim, at my request, and empty except for the table and chairs. I sniffled and my body shook, the … Continue reading

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A Bush Among Trees

No one came to the door and made an announcement. There were no signs that said it was a fact. I just knew: Everything would be okay. Feeling a little like a bush among trees today… strong, distinct, resilient.

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During My Afternoon Stroll…

I found beauty…I found peace.

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Happy New Year!

The restaurant was filled with hope and excitement. Close friends and strangers in big parties and small, sat across from each other, celebrating the ending of one year and the start of another: for some a better year, one aligned … Continue reading

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The Gift

There was just one more gift under the tree, the small square box still wrapped in brown shipping paper, its top covered with silver tinsel and tiny flashing red, blue, and green bulbs. “Whose is that?” Michael asked. “It’s for … Continue reading

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The Old Farmhouse

I walked to the end of the property and waited. My backpack on one shoulder, a small carryon next to my feet. I looked back at the old farmhouse, a two-story, twice-restored home to three generations of Malcolms, once thriving … Continue reading

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The Long Way Home

“Hold the door, please,” I yelled, bumbling down the hall with a white box topped with my things—eight years’ worth of pictures, notepads, pens, hard candy, a light sweater I kept on the back of my chair, a dusty pair … Continue reading

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Remembering

There is an enchanting melody playing in my head: a symphony of sounds dancing on my eardrums. A composition: rhythmic, melodic. Wooden sticks knocking. Soft harmony, weaving in and out, tying notes in knots. Wind instruments shouting with squeaks and … Continue reading

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Find Me…Please! (3)

Did I do the right thing by offering Bianca a place to stay? Yes. She needed help; she was in a bad way. I thought maybe she was involved with drugs when I met her. She wasn’t. She was a … Continue reading

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