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There are small things that mean bigs things in a relationship. Are you in a relationship with someone that during an argument or when you are attempting to express your feelings: Walks out of the room or out of the house? Sits silently with absolutely no response? Hangs up the phone on you? Dismisses you…

My friend Trixie and I are talking about fun. “People want to be around fun,” says Trixie. “I used to be fun,” I say. Scratch that. I was a one woman stand-up, quick witted, last girl to leave the party kinda fun. “I’m not really feeling the fun so much anymore Trixie,” I say. “You…

My friends “Trixie” and “Loretta” are moving stuff around my house. One grabs a chair and scoots it towards my fireplace. The other grabs a lamp and places it on the piano. They are decorators who in the loving friendship of divorce have offered to give my home a makeover. Loretta scopes the room as…

I have this best guy friend from high school. I will call him, “Daughtry” since he reminds me of the singer. He will love this reference. Not long after I begin this whole divorce process (days actually) he’s knocking on my front door. It is no matter that he lives all the way in Connecticut.…

I enter my home, sink into my chaise lounge and weep. The tears that find their way out are not slow and graceful, but violent and thunderous. I try to muffle them, but they show no signs of being quieted. I pick up the phone, dial my friend, “Charo,” and while I try to speak,…

We sit nestled under an umbrella. The late August sun peeks out around us. We are jabbering relentlessly because far too many years have passed between us. The waiter stops to take our order only to be ushered away while we chat some more. For me there are not enough hours in this visit. I…

I’ve never needed to be right. What I tell my children is to remember what I did right. Remember the moments I caught myself distracted and not listening to what made your world go round and I stopped and heard your precious voice. Remember the moments I sang to you in the car while the…

I ease into my Friday with e-mails as I text an old friend. I meet her for the first time when I am twenty-three. I open the door of our rental in the Pennsylvania mountain’s and find her on the couch swiping nail polish across her fingers. I, ever the one to make a fuss…
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