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Baby Girl

Baby Girl

I gathered her hair in my hands and attempted the braid she requested. My daughter, now nine years old, was keenly aware of her appearance and valued it. She was particular about colours (bright) about pants (tight) and about jewelry (never too much). To me, this...
Sweetwood Excerpt

Sweetwood Excerpt

Excerpt from  The Sweetwood Series, Book 2 Back at the hotel, Jacob headed straight for the shower knowing it was the only way to ensure his mother would leave him alone. Minutes later though, she was knocking at the door. “Darlin’? Jacob, honey, it’s your mother.” He...
Seeing the Man

Seeing the Man

Bending to kiss him goodnight, I whispered: “I love you exactly as you are.” His ten-year-old face relaxed at that. My son—at once gentle, kind, destructive and dreamy-eyed-—held a real depth of feeling behind his cool, blue eyes. The nighttime routine was...
Christmas While Divorced

Christmas While Divorced

I don’t have a podcast episode this week—too much going on!—but I didn’t want to miss my weekly target. So, here is a short story I wrote in 2018. Yes, I’m divorced. And yes, I have friends and family who are divorced. This is not based on any one person’s experience....
You Just Want Attention

You Just Want Attention

I know how this goes, and yet I fall for it every time. I fall for the drama, the who’s right and who’s wrong of it all. It’s so easy to get caught up in the noise and distraction. You just want attention. You don’t want my heart…. This...
The Way He Says Her Name

The Way He Says Her Name

It’s cold, but the wind has died down, so I decide to walk. I stick to the salty sidewalks and avoid ice patches. I want to reach out to my brother, Wes, so I take my phone out and send him a quick text: I did it. I went out, met strangers, and I survived! He...
The Pub

The Pub

The city bus in downtown Niagara Falls is quiet. Tourists take the casino buses. It’s just me, some teenagers and an elderly woman with her shopping basket on wheels. My nerves are in my throat; I swallow them, but it doesn’t work. The tension slides down...
Father and Daughter

Father and Daughter

  My dad, Gregory Finch, looks older than his forty-eight years. His hair has been a dark grey since I was eight, and he could give two shits about his clothes. His complexion is pale, his slight body hunched. Dad seems only to want to be forgotten, but I...