by Susan Shearouse
Journal Entry. May 12. Sunday. Mother’s Day
Sitting on the porch, comforted by the sweet soft rain. This bench is sheltered just so. I can look out across the front yard at my gardens there and stay dry here.
Mother’s Day. I am the mother of three children. One is not with me. Other people say “he is here.” No. Here is rumbling through the neighborhood in an old truck that needs a new muffler. Here is bounding up … Read more...