creative writing
Reflective essays, poetic musings, and character-rich stories that bring imagination to life.
-
Leisure, Taken Apart
Leisure has changed for me. It’s not what it once was. In leisure, I do not sit still.I float beside my thoughts. A violin, a gentle piano, hums somewhere—even if no one is playing it. Art leans in through my… Continue reading
-
What a Name Learns
My first name was a beginning stroke.Given before courage.Before the world made its demands.In time, my name learned me. It doesn’t waste syllables.It’s short. Memorable. A little defiant.It does not ask permission to enter a room. It sits cross-legged and… Continue reading
-
It’s Time That Teaches Us How to Listen…
It’s Time That Teaches Us How to Listen The more time we spend in Scripture,we learn it doesn’t just inform us—it forms us. Those roots don’t rush.They settle deep into our thoughts, our responses, our speech,quietly shaping our hearts and… Continue reading
-
Remembering Is to Live Again
What has been lived does not dissolve;it persists, asking to be remembered,tugging at my sleeve with borrowed sighs. Time, I have learned, does not proceed cleanly forward.It folds.It sneaks in. Some people want to outrun time.I sit with it.I ask… Continue reading
-
The Place That Shows Up With Me
My perfect space isn’t something I build.It doesn’t have walls or windows or a door I need to close behind me. I can’t imagine waiting on a room or a piece of furniture in order to write, as if words,… Continue reading
-
If You Could Not See Me
I watch the wind, not the rain.I am gentle but alert—the way a bird perches on a power line,still, but not unaware. You won’t know the color of my eyes,but you’ll feel them study you softly. If you could not… Continue reading
-
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
-
“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
-
“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
-
“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
...The Rest Is His Story 