I had about three-quarters of a post all typed out. Singing the single woes…hugging that old ‘father wound’ of insecurity like the prickly pear cactus it is. And then I went… Continue
Kitchen Sink Truth
I poured hot soapy water into the pan, scrubbing away the remnants of last night’s dinner. Swirling sponge on metal, I continued the internal dialogue with my Father. This dialogue… Continue