Lessons Learned
The Apology, 34 Years Past
The English lecturer was out of line. For that I owe her a tiny measure of thanks.
The English lecturer was out of line. For that I owe her a tiny measure of thanks.
The perfect balance between soft and firm, slightly crumbly, a little buttery and always sweet.
This early morning quiet / Many inches on the ground / Falling softly still, six-fifteen / Straight down, not a sound….
She died on Palm Sunday. I think that would have made her happy, as she drew her last breaths, knowing that she was going to die on a significant day on the church calendar. I held her hand all that morning. Now I hold the bean stone.
To Calgary and back, and my signature Olympic moment came in Circle, Mont.
Sign up today to get new IV Words right in your inbox. Unsubscribe anytime.