It was too early in the day for this kind of discussion - but really, was it ever too early to discuss matters of the heart? What if the moment passed and never returned?
You kids were all in college, and I suddenly saw that I was stuck alone with a man who, all those years later, was still wanting me to be someone I wasn't.
It feels like forever, like he's lived through the same things as me, like our lives ran parallel for years until last week, when they finally intersected and fused.
Life is like a game of cards. It deals you different hands at different times. You don't have that old hand anymore, . . . . Look at what you have now.
But you don't know what I want, do you. You formed an idea of who I am and What I do, and you've woven that idea in your life. You may listen to my words, but you don't hear my thoughts. You don't hear my needs. You don't see me. You haven't seen me in years.
life isn't black or white. There isn't only one picture that's perfect. It's about piecing together shades of gray to make something quite stunning. And the picture shifts. That's another Dad-ism. Remember his sea shadows? Each time the shadow moves, there's a new image. Only sometimes those clouds are stuck up there, so we're the ones who have to move to see it.
Barbara, you have done it again! Sweet Salt Air is a fabulous story of friendship, betrayal, courage and love with family and friends. Having been raised in Maine, she writes 'to the T, in describing beautiful and simple lives on a Maine Island.
Clear water sped over rocky clusters whose colors ran from ivories to mossy greens, blues and grays. Though clouds covered the sun, the sway of dappling evergreens gave the water sparkle.
When the dust settled, they talked reasonably about the inevitability of change, the idea that they had to let go what might have been and accept what was.
Vsiaka godina neshcho shche razts'ftiava v zhivota mi,koeto shche i napomnia za teb.Vinagi shche e razlichno,niakoga edno i s'shcho,no shche b'de khubavo.Liubovta otseliava.
Her ticket to freedom lay in her lap. Ever an avid reader, Annie had escaped into books in recent months, when all else failed to calm her. As a friend, a book had advantages over the human variety. It was there whenever she needed it, it vanished as easily, and it never asked questions, expected witty replies, made awkward suggestions, or otherwise overcompensated for its own inability to right the wrongs of the world.
Except she wasn't Vicki Bell anymore. She was Vicki Bell Beaudry, owner of the Red Fox with her husband, Rob, whose family was nearly as rooted in Bell Valley as the Bell family was, hence a questionable welcome there, too.
What made a friend a best friend? Did it have to be someone who knew your people, who shared your life outlook or your views on religion or politics? Could it just be someone who could talk and listen and commiserate?
But wasn't a best friend also someone you could trust not to hurt you? I had hurt Vicki, yet here she was, opening her home and heart to me again. So maybe being a best friend entailed the ability to forgive.
But the rest of what I was doing is ... is like spinning. I sit in a room of thirty people I don't know, and I pedal faster and faster to keep pace, but when I'm done, I haven't moved an inch.
more space for their clothes. I can't tell you how many times I've had nowhere to hang a single damn suit because a woman's closet was so stuffed. Hire a closet planner. She'll think you're brilliant." "She hired one herself a few years back. I need something she hasn't thought of herself."
won't go any farther than my plants unless the rest of the place is exciting, which right now it is not." When the phone started to slip, she pushed it back up and began on the Ficus lyrata. "They're planning to renovate and remerchandise, and all of that's actually starting in two weeks, but then they had this, quote unquote, brilliant idea that I should"
plants and containers that I know will work in their rooms. Mayer's?" Snorting, she tucked the phone between shoulder and ear; holding the bucket with both hands, she tipped it toward the Ficus benjamina. "Mayer's doesn't do that, but they want to, because their business is static right now. They want me to move right in there and be the centerpiece of their store, and, you know, it might work. I could bring people in, only they won't go an..