I got scammed this weekend. I’ve been dying for a dog. A warm, big, cuddly ball of fur that I can wrap my arms around. You see, my mom died at the beginning of February. And then our little ball of fur of 15 years had the audacity to die
It was just an old chair that rocked easily. I saw it at the Jackson House, a place where people send their unused or unnecessary furniture. It was beautiful with its nicks and scars–character marks, I called them. I told Daddy that was what I wanted for my 16th birthday.
It’s 0612, and I am just beginning to see sunrise peek over the horizon. I dreaded this summer, for I knew that I would feel like i was existing in a pressure cooker. Our son, the child of so many prayers, went to Army Basic Combat Training at the tender