The Journey

Standing in the bow of our sailboat, I stare at the murky waters of Lake Michigan. It has been weeks since torrential rains overwhelmed antiquated sewage systems, spilling billions of gallons of raw sewage into this lake; since swollen rivers and creeks flushed...

Two women walk slowly as the Arizona sun casts morning shadows across the desert. The elder woman tucks her hand tightly around the arm of the other. Perhaps for balance. Perhaps for intimacy. Perhaps both. They speak softly, heads together as if sharing their...

Next week it will be five years since I lay on the floor of the frozen earth, teeth chattering, eyes wide, ears alert as I listened to icy winds whistle through the empty branches overhead. In the darkness my body trembled, partially because of April’s arctic air...

“Make yourself look large.”  I glance at my 5’5” frame, a body shaped by the lingering longings of an anorexic adolescence. “Stand your ground. Do not run.” But I am a runner. It is what I do best. “Wave your arms. Shout. Throw rocks.” Throw rocks? If survival...

While wildflowers teach me to pause and be present, the shy desert birds persuade me to tiptoe silently along prickly paths so I might spot the feathered travelers darting among the thorny branches of an ocotillo, scurrying under the scrub of a creosote, burying...

Legs fully extended, scraggly tail parallel to the earth, the lean body of a coyote races down the darkened street in front of me. His speed is both terrifying and inspiring, a figure of movement and grace. Intent on some unseen prey, he does not see me in the...

I find it difficult to listen to the needs of the heart during the day. All the chattering of the mind. All the clutter of to-do lists. All the weight of responsibility. But dawn . . . well that is a very different story . . .A brush of light the size of a thimble...

When I reflect on 2012, I want to remember peering through the lens of a camera and falling in love with Ireland; holding hands with Rubin in the cockpit of our sailboat, listening to the calls of loons echoing across the Canadian waters of the North Channel;...

My prayers fly across the dry desert wash, soaring up the ragged tops of the Catalina Mountains until finally touching the pink whisper of dawn. I pray to the spirits of all the great women who have gone before me that they might provide me insight, compassion,...

A man died Sunday morning, October 7, 2012. He was a man of many names. Harry. Honey. Dad. Grandpa. Thomas. Professor. Coach. Even Mr. VIP. But to me, he will always be “my dad.” In a sixty year relationship, it is a relatively new name defining my relationship...

As I lean against the wooden railing of the viewing platform eyeing the small dune perched on top a cliff of moraine, I ponder the legend of Sleeping Bear. Created by Native Americans, the story describes a bear and her two cubs, fleeing a raging fire on the other...

“The only people who live north in the winter are people who have never lived south,” my husband tells the world when gale force winds sweep across the lake, snow stinging the eyes of anyone walking the beach. That, of course, would be me. Occasionally, Rubin joins...