Writer. Feminist. Historian. Person.
Wow. The line is out the door. I guess dying young will do that. Everyone you know is still alive. At least it’s not raining. Finally. Through the door! Damn. It’s like the line for Space Mountain. At least there’s music. Hmmm? What’s that song? What a Wonderful Life. That’s perfect.… Continue reading The Ear Worm
She sat on the breakwater and hoped the sound of the waves would soothe her. His words hadn’t. “In between the clover and the dampened earth.” That’s how the minister described it. Sounded poetic. Nicer than “here’s where we buried her body.” But that was reality. Ma was dead. And no pretty words were going… Continue reading The Breakwater
She sat at the edge of the stream and stared at the house. Their home. The tumbling water reminded her of a song. She could hear the melody in her head. But the words just wouldn’t come. It’s not fair. Songs are not her department. TV shows and historical facts. But not songs. That’s his… Continue reading Their Home
Tina Stewart Brakebill 