Posts by Written by Karen
Scents, Sensibility, & Time Travel
Have you ever caught whiff of a scent that transports you back in time? The sweet aroma of ripened cantaloupe and peaches takes me back to my grandmother’s home in North Carolina, circa 1973. Grandma Pearl would keep fresh Carolina peaches and melons in her cellar. Today, if I wander through a farmer’s market or…
Read MoreEQ
EQ refers to the awareness of yourself and your surroundings. It stands for emotional intelligence (quotient). Have you ever found yourself reaching for a tissue when you hear a beautiful melody that touches your ears and your heart? Me too. For years, as the world witnessed my vulnerabilities and emotional responses to impactful stimuli, I…
Read More…and about that man from Nantucket
Authors note: I read an article about a surprise birthday party where guests were asked to write a limerick about the birthday celebrant. I was inspired. I started sketching out limericks. And I couldn’t stop! The games began. I would select a friend or family member and others had to guess who was the subject…
Read MoreThe Vortex
Published in The Story Circle Journal, March 2019 Author’s note: The Vortex is a creative writing piece that appeared in the True Words From Real Women section of the journal; the writing prompt topic was Mother Nature. Our small group was shivering on the 50-yard line when she arrived. She caught us all by surprise.…
Read MoreThe Significant Other
Through the frosted panes I survey the horizon, awaiting her arrival. My head bowed, my fingers tap, hesitantly. Words form on my laptop screen, only to be chased by the backspace key. I glance up. An arrowhead of Canadian geese pierces the eastern sky. Our quiet affair had begun during the pandemic, during a time…
Read MoreBeing a Stepmom
In the 11th year of the third millennium, I stand at the window and gaze in. I had been invited to join the architectural committee. To participate in rebuilding. My heart is enraptured. Seven Thanksgivings pass. I stand on tippy-toes and peer over the cobbled balustrade. The stones of the wall are from the abandoned…
Read MoreThe Color of Contrivance
As a young girl, she had two imaginary friends. Sleeping bags were magic carpets. Books transported her where a passport could not. She dreamed of being an eagle, flapping her arms and emitting caws. The neighbors thought she was rehearsing for a bit part as a crow. From the thread worn recliner, she reminisces. Her…
Read MoreWistful
Twilight had descended. My stepson yanked open the front door. Earlier he and his brother had stood by their dad’s side, shifting, scuffing their shiny shoes. The photographer positioned them in natural-looking poses. They extracted small plates of red velvet cake sliced by a captain’s sword, the icing tattling on them. She stood on the…
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