Eleanor Grace
Stories, reflections, faith, and grit from Eleanor Grace—raw, real, and still growing.
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Romance, As I Know It
Romance, for me, is a living language.It’s not just affection—it’s literature.Spoken almost daily.Dramatic? Certainly. It’s love that arrives through inboxes, crosses time zones, drips across windshields, and flirts shamelessly from traffic lights. My romance is intentional—and that intentionality is understood.It’s choosing… Continue reading
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“Retirement Isn’t Where I’m Going—It’s How I’ve Chosen to Stay”
I’ve asked myself how I wish to retire—and instantly found myself blinking at the question. And still… the answer does not come. The world, of course, had no hesitation.It offered a checklist.A finish line marked by dollar signs,pastel oceans,smiling stock-photo… Continue reading
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“Fuhgeddaboudit”
Because “Fuhgeddaboudit” can mean: incredible, impossible, forgiven, or final—because sometimes one word is enough to say it all, without saying too much. Let me explain. I’m behind the bar in a burgundy velvet dress, wiping down a shot glass that’s… Continue reading
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“The Affair I Had in a French Café”
Here in the United States, coffee is a necessity. It’s an accessory. It’s the fuel behind every hustle and the badge of every busybody. We don’t sip it. We chase it. We order it before we leave the house, pick… Continue reading
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To Remember Is to Live Again
There are days when the past presses upon me not as sorrow, but as presence— as though memory itself is a second breath, quieter, but no less real. It is spoken in another language… “Recordar es volver a vivir.” To… Continue reading
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“Shut Happens”
How Do You Know When It’s Time to Unplug? It’s not sudden.Never is—not for a woman like her. It’s the accumulation of little sighs.The kind that settle quietly in the corners of her day,like dust she didn’t know was gathering.… Continue reading
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“When Morning Knocks Softly”
Living Diary: EG Collection I don’t wake up to an alarm. I put that blaring apparatus to sleep, many moons back. And no—I don’t mean today’s endless ringtone options with bird songs and waterfall loops. I’m talking about the… Continue reading
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My Smile Is Quite the Accessory
So, I’d have to say…the oldest thing I’m wearing today is my smile—wide, wouldn’t you say? She shows up first, knowing her place.Before my feet find the floor, before the mirror judges, before I pick who I’ll be today.She’s the… Continue reading
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The Road That Flirted First
We were about thirty miles past nowhere. I was just minding my own business, sitting in the passenger seat like a proper wife— translation: eating snacks and offering unsolicited navigation advice— when I saw it. The Road. Not just a… Continue reading
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Before My Feet Hit the Floor
Today began like a soft morning hymn—no rush, no alarm. Just me, stepping into the light of a second chance. That’s the first thing that brings me happiness every single day: the chance to try again. Maybe I missed a… Continue reading
...The Rest Is His Story 