Froggie and Toad_THE ELUSIVE HINGES_A Heavenly Conversation_The Shelves are Laughing at me
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Froggie and Toad
Who can truly know their parents, beyond the superficial aspects they share? ‘She was a good cook.’ ‘…Tidy.’ ‘Faithful.’ Can we know more than stock phrases? Do we want to? What key events ruled their lives? How did they see themselves? What wounds did they nurse? How did they connect with others? Parents are like mountains. You might scale their heights. But who can penetrate their depths? What lies veiled behind those mists? Or in those distant forests seen from the paths leading to the summit? By the time we become aware enough to ask, they’ve slippedwww.onedoor.cc beyond answering. Clues might be found...
THE ELUSIVE HINGES
The SoCo Brewery and Taphouse could be found in the small downtown on South Concho Avenue.During its five-year run, Mike stopped there to wet his whistle with a few pints twice each week. In the course of doing so, he met and thus acquired, many good friends.Mike learned of the small craft beer tavern by happenstance. It was previously an artistic women’s boutique. One day while driving by he spotted an old, decorated door on display just outside the front door of the boutique. Mike pulled his car over to inspect the hinges. The rare old door hinges were exactly what he had been looking for o...
A Heavenly Conversation
As I groggily began to reach for my phone, which would not stop ringing, I opened my eyes with hopes of being able to focus enough without having to find my glasses to see who the heck was waking me up from a nice, sound sleep.I for one have never enjoyed being rudely interrupted from a sound sleep for nearly anybody, unless of course it would be a family emergency or something.But as I brought my phone toward my face, my eyes managed to focus enough to see the phone number originated from somewhere in Minnesota and the name attached to it was Frankie V. Now I was intrigued indeed because the ...
The Shelves are Laughing at me
"I know it's a weird fear to have Emmie. You don't understand," I told her in an angry voice. She was sitting in her green PT Cruiser at the edge of my driveway. The keys were still in the ignition. Her bright red nails tapped against the steering wheel in an impatient manner. Her blond hair twisted in perfect ringlets around her cheeks. Her blue eyes raged with fire. "If you don't want to go. That's all you have to say," her face scrunched with anger. I wanted to go with her. That wasn't the question. The question was how? How could I survive? I looked at her empty passenger seat and my stoma...