She is old now, She is slow. She tries to ignore me at night when she needs to make one last trip outside. But she doesn’t complain, she doesn’t argue, she does what she’s done all her life. She gives you that look, “Don’t worry about me, I’ll get by.” It’s the look that tells…

Where to start… Nothing like looking at a blank piece of paper and trying to come up with something to fill it. In my most recent writing gig, I gave myself a 280 character limit. Yet even four to five sentences and a photo once a month seems extreme at times. So why jump back…