by Deb Farris | Jul 4, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
There is a place we used to go every summer, where wind blows off the lake, cooling sun-parched skin from day’s labor, where deer nibble on grass outside your window, where children with toughened feet run gleefully across a stoney beach, anxious for fireworks. There...
by Deb Farris | Jun 30, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
I stood at a fork in the road. White petals blew in the wind. One road led through a canopy of trees offering shade from the heat of the sun. But the other was adorned with petals and led on through a silky light. The trunk of the tree stood wide and strong and firmly...
by Deb Farris | Jun 29, 2018 | Musings, Poetry
I walk forward. I feel you behind me but do not turn to look back. I can sense your shadow. You are still my father, just as you were two years ago when I realized your footprints would no longer be seen on earth, or your shuffling heard. I move forward but admit that...
by Deb Farris | Jun 23, 2018 | Memoir, Musings, Poetry
I place my notebook down on the table, then pick it up again, to lay it back down. I walk away and walk back, passing it by only to return. The words inside are scrambled, my mind spins a yolk–an embryo of thoughts all stuck together. Then it finally occurs to...
by Deb Farris | Jun 20, 2018 | Musings
I have been buried in budgets at work and almost missed it. Today would have been my mom’s 88th birthday. Born two days and 25 years apart we often celebrated our birthdays together. After I got married and moved back to Milwaukee in 1999, we spent that time on...
