Browsing Category: Journal Pages

        I listen to my son on the piano.  His fingers are light and fluid in airy play like the raindrops in soft fall.  He uses the pedals and the sound changes like thunder in the depths of cloud.  I sit outside and watch rain fall under cover of porch stoop, rare of lighting’s flash that […]

               There are divots and dead spots on our front lawn.  One set is at sixty feet from wooden mound.  Another at a distance I do not know, but my youngest son does.  I carry homeplate forward from its mark at sixty feet until he tells me to stop, the distance of his Little League, […]

        The mulberries are starting set on the trees.  It’s a little thing of little importance but means a little something to me.  Last year, my youngest son spoke to me of his adventure with a friend who lives in the country and how they picked and ate them the branches.  It was his favorite part […]

               I prayed a prayer to Saint Benedict last night.  Weekend before, while searching for First Communion gift for my nephew and their cousin, both my oldest son and daughter found bracelets with the Benedictine cross and medallion.  Both are on the rosary I most often wear, and are the medallion of the only necklace […]

               Early morning, stack of books before me and journal at my side—should words and inspiration show—mind refused settle.                Nothing focused.  Nothing fixed, held in draw of my attention, and so I prayed.                Lights off, candle lit, morning still in darkness, from beginning Cross through bead by bead—I prayed.                What were my […]

               If at the end of life I am given chance to re-live again, one more time, experiences I’ve loved: I pray to hear my oldest son on the piano.                I listened to him today.  He played a song called “Cathedral Bells” and, closing my eyes, I could hear again the organ-sound of the […]

               “You were smiling so big!” my nine-year old son tells me, his own showing as he says.                “I was,” I affirm.                “You were so happy!”                “I was,” I affirm again.                Many times, he repeats the same on our drive home and after, when we are there.                This is what […]

        You can tell when the humidity changes.  Seed in the planter begins to stick and lines plug in the clinging of the seed.           Everything works perfect—then it doesn’t—and you step outside the tractor cab and feel the air cling and stick to you as it does the seed in the […]