I need to get something off my chest
The December frost anxiety crackling through the soil of my stomach
Turning peds of clay to tight permafrost… 329 more words
…at least, that’s what the late, great Tom Petty said. And I trust him. Even posthumously. RIP, Tom.
Today is my husband’s 10th lifetime surgery. I’ve been with him through a good chunk of them and while waiting for him, I am always nervous but hopeful, happy that whatever was wrong will be righted. 661 more words