We are out West heading between Manal and Hynish.
There she appeared the Matriarch of the Machair.
There she stood between the rocks.
Yet only metres from the shore. 562 more words
Tags » Lunga
Lunga and I have often talked about writing about our mothers, but we each have put off doing that. Somehow we seem to find a reason not to write the pieces we discussed or we end up writing other pieces. 577 more words
My grandmother was a heroine and that is all I will remember her as. If she had any flaws, I never saw them and if she did something bad, I did not hear of it. 664 more words
Yet again I find myself in a dark hole of misery, of gloom, a feeling of uncertainty, where the heart is torn and can hopefully get mended by some sort of attention from people who are not even aware. 545 more words
Is it foolish to believe? Not only to believe, but believe in something that you know won’t happen without a willing donor and hours of tests and surgeries? 401 more words
I am actually glad I got my uncle to stop taking me to hospital because even though the first four months were difficult, I would be probably long gone or would be fighting for my life motionless in a high-care. 560 more words