The Birth of a Shopper

I was four when my momma took me to “the city” as she liked to call it, a trip to downtown New Orleans to shop. The stores along Canal Street were magical, glittering places filled with sophisticated and glamorous women. And even on a weekday, they were crowded. She had only turned her back for a brief moment when I disappeared, the stuff of every mother’s nightmare. Frantically, she called for me and although this was well before a time when store staff would announce a missing child alert, everyone in the vicinity began to search. I was found a few minutes later, sitting on the floor behind the perfume counter with the saleslady, spraying and smelling all of the different scents as I gigg

And Now, to Soar

We are told heartbreaking stories about animals who spend years in captivity, held in tiny cages or pens, often under the most brutal of conditions. And we wonder about the cruel nature of man that allows him to treat another living creature with such disregard. But just as the world is ordered into opposites, so is the very essence of human beings, and fortunately, there are kindly, altruistic folks, who step in to rescue and liberate the unfortunate. These are the heroes. This should be the happy ending, but it isn’t always. Sometimes, when the door is swung wide, offering an invitation to freedom, the animal will hesitate as though fearful to take that first tentative step. Although it

Let it Be

In the days since my diagnosis, I seem to have become more in tune with the living things that surround me. It has been an unexpected surprise that has made me a little more tender hearted than I used to be. But it has also provided me with some interesting observations, simple slices-of-life that appear out of nowhere to teach me something important. Two days ago, I decided to tackle some long overdue dusting in my bedroom. I could hear the incessant buzzing of a bee that had managed to get into the house and was bouncing around the transom over the door that leads outside. I opened it a few inches to encourage the bee to fly out to freedom. But it remained stuck as though it couldn’t un

The Blue Butterflies

I particularly like butterflies. Several blue ones visit me daily, and on most summer mornings, they land outside the bedroom door, slowly flapping their wings in recognition. I find their presence comforting. I would even go so far as to say that I have come to view them as a heavenly messengers since their first appearance here coincided with a visit from my sister-in-law, who at the time was battling late stage ovarian cancer. And no, the irony is not lost on me. When I penned Angelique’s War, I wanted an angelic symbol that I could carry throughout the novel. And the blue butterfly was perfect, of special significance to me, and hopefully, to my readers as well. It is hard to forget the

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