Nothing can be loved at speed.

One good mentor can change everything. Thanks, Mickey Muldoon, for being mine.

Summer is a great time to tuck into a book. I was prompted to think about the books that have changed my life and the I continue to revisit year after year.

I would love to know what you are reading, what books are on your list, and which ones are forever books.

When she was born, the midwife said, "Reach down and grab your baby." I did as instructed. This was my fourth birth. I knew what to expect and was not put off by the clamming, wet clump of flesh that was making its entrance. I reached for her, held her to the light, and brought her to my chest.

"It's a girl," whispered the midwife. My mind went sideways. A girl? No, not possible. I was having a boy. I had only picked a boy name Calvin. This baby was a boy, I was sure of it, until I took a closer look and then leaned back in wonder. "Wow, my boy has a vagina."

The gap in her front tooth made all her instructions end with the slight whistle of a distant tea kettle reaching its readiness. Her left lazy eye kept me on my toes. Because I was sure if she was talking to me or someone behind me, to avoid offending her, I would generously nod at whatever she said.

She had an easy smile and smelled of chalk dust and church incense. Most days, her disposition was sweet, almost childlike. However, her high voice and gentle words made it feel like she was trying too hard to earn her holiness.

And every once in a while, she would show us her stormy side. It would slip out in a sarcastic comment or pointed criticism that cut even deeper than intended because of how unexpected it was.

And we would take her in with new reverence, knowing there was way more to this nun than that habit could hide.

These are the Lyrics from Alanis Morissette’s That Particular time.

At that particular time

Love encouraged me to leave

At that particular moment

I knew staying with you meant deserting me

That particular month

Was harder than you'd believe but I still left

At that particular time.

Listen to the song and follow the prompt. Those who hold the pen, hold power. So write on.

Sometimes, we get hurt when we don’t see people for who they are. “Acceptance is the answer to all our problems.” This story is about the time I broke my arm and got to wear a cast. Or at least that is what I thought it was about when I started writing.

Day 1 prompt:

What fires you up? What burns you out?

As a child, my Aunt Barbara, who was a school teacher, taught me about the word "kindergarten."

I had watched my five older sisters go off to school and return with songs, stories, and the ability to decode letters. They could now pass each other notes that left me cross-eyed. They could escape into books, and they could sign their names. What power existed in the ink of their pens? What freedom.

My aunt informed me that "kindergarten" meant a garden of children. I thought I would pee myself with excitement as visions of flower children danced in my head.

This is a love song for Madeline Island that Billie and I wrote together. Check out the video to hear that lovely B. serenade us.

Like the sun, she emerges, breathtaking and brilliant. Her full lips painted rich red and smiling. Then, like a lady in a shampoo commercial, she looks past us to some unseen camera and began ever so slightly to move her head, tilting back and forth with kindness and curiosity on her face as if she were greeting the walls of our living room for the first time, ensuring that we saw all her extravagant angles.

Welcome, and thanks for visiting my site; poke around, check out the blog, classes, and retreats, and please leave me a note to say you stopped by; this is an interactive space.