Reader Oops
Dear Reader, I have a confession. I committed a major oops last night. I was warned. I nodded that I […]
Dear Reader, I have a confession. I committed a major oops last night. I was warned. I nodded that I […]
This post is a response to a writing prompt for my eighth grade class: Write an autobiographical narrative. The theme is Christmas. Today I’ll share a bad Christmas story. Tomorrow, it will be a pleasant one. So here we go…
If she wasn’t so angry, Sara would have thought the situation was funny. Her boyfriend of four years cheated on her, and someone offered to tell his mother on him.
“That’s okay, Mrs. Jenkins,” Ryan called out. “This is something we can handle like adults.”
“Like adults,” set off a trigger in Sarah. She pulled her leg back and kicked Ryan’s tire. The force of her foot connecting with the tire sent a ricochet of pain through her leg. “Doh!” She groaned in pain.
She heard an older woman’s voice call out, “You should have kicked Ryan, honey. He’s the one that deserves it.”
It is the fourth quarter and the eighth-grade students are at that saucy stage. Those critical thinking synapses have connected,
“Go live your life,” her parents said. “You can get a husband after you’ve seen the world.” Her father encouraged.
There are friend, family, and marriage milestone happily ever after stories. The key ingredients in all of them were: the struggle, the help, and the bond that resulted from the combination.
You know that person. The one that makes you repeat yourself. Several times. Then they get what you were trying
As if it would make me feel better to know in pirate libraries my book was beside USA Today bestsellers.
A year ago, I shared a short story with you. After a discussion on Facebook, one of my friends challenged me
My husband’s mother, Irene, was the kindest, sweetest, softest person you would ever want to meet. I may be wrong,