A Late-Bloomer's Coming of Age
“Never did the world make a queen of a girl who hides in houses and dreams without traveling.” ― Roman Payne Coming of age. Growing up. Reaching adulthood. It happens at different ages, depending on the culture. As a perpetual late-bloomer, it truly didn’t happen for me until my early twenties. Even though I’d lived on my own intermittingly from the age of 18, there was always the safety net of being near my hometown. I knew people and could ask for help if the need arose.
They came closed, expectant with colorful promise Twelve apologies, fresh and fragrant, on a spring morning They opened slowly, delighted at sun's attentive rays
Inhaling the brackish breath of Espichel In a dreamlike stance of recognition. My numb heart sprouts newly born wings
“Elevator?” It was a running joke between me and my friend, Denise. It all started on a day in the early 1990s. After graduating high school (or, better yet, escaping a forced social experiment), college wasn’t yet on the horizon. I was finally free. And moreover, being outside of the high school arena, peers were more accepting of my quirky personality and unique look. Instead of being the weird redhead that boys would not dare discover, it was a time that other humans wanted to find out what lurked beneath my freckled skin.
I remember the day when Mom tried to leave me at nursery school I cried, threw a tantrum They called her to take me back home.
Lost and Found in Labyrinth
“Through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered I have fought my way here to the castle beyond the Goblin City to take back the child you have stolen, for my will is as strong as yours and my kingdom as great. You have no power over me!” Jim Henson
Heidi, a Heartbeat at my Feet
"My little dog—a heartbeat at my feet." Edith Wharton My first glance at Heidi on Petfinder A heartbeat at my feet. I’ve always been a lover of dogs, but my miniature schnauzer Heidi has touched my heart unlike any other. She has been at my feet and by my side for the past nine years and has had many “jobs,” the most important of which is bringing joy and love into my life.
The Stolen Kiss
Aimee spun the batteries in the Walkman, trying to get her Prince cassette to play. The dying batteries made the singer’s usual falsetto sounded deep, brooding, and strange. Slowly the song dissipated to nothing and Aimee realized Tara was talking to her.