Today is my baby’s birthday.  I use the term “baby” loosely.  He married the love of his life last year.  So, now it’s her turn to make his birthday breakfast.  None the less, I found myself pulling out the Happy Birthday sign that we’ve used every year, for each of our birthdays since the kids were born, and hanging in its usual place of honor were the family gathers in the kitchen.  Gone are the days of bedtime stories, forts in the backyard, and pancakes shaped like animals….at least until the next generation.  <g>

Which had me thinking about traditions – and perhaps more specifically, how they evolve as our lives evolve.  Holiday traditions are a given.  When we first were married, Christmas always involved a large family gathering at my husband’s grandmother’s place – a beautiful brick home that her father had built and that reigned supreme for four generations.  Since her passing, the family has taken to celebrating Christmas Day at our house.  The location might have changed, but the spirit remains the same;  a big dinner, a roaring fire, Christmas carols on the stereo, pecan pie, stacks of presents under the tree, our favorite uncle playing Santa, decorations tucked into every nook and cranny.

Then there are those annual family gatherings on the Tennessee River; fishing, swimming, cruising, eating, fishing, playing in the water, eating, fishing…..you get the idea.  <g>

But it’s the “other” traditions I’m thinking of today, like the almost right-of-passage camping trips to the “trout streams” our men take, or the annual target practice Thanksgiving weekend (and you thought Black Friday was a big deal <g>)… and the Scrabble tournaments.  Don’t forget the Scrabble!  As our family grows and changes I wonder how many of these familiar, family-defining traditions will remain.

Will my future granddaughter wear the opera pearls on her wedding day that her mother, grandmother, and several great-grandmothers wore before her?  Will my future grandson love the wild outdoors with the same passion as his father, grandfather and great-grandfathers did?  I hope so.  But I also look forward to the unique and special traditions those future generations will bring.

My First Passion

Since the age of six years old, I’ve been in love with the sport of artistic gymnastics. According to legend, a family member, who was a physical education teacher at the time, thought my tiny, strong little body would be perfectly suited to the sport. To prove his point, he flipped me around, and promptly dropped me on my head. That moment triggered my lifelong love/hate affair with the sport.

Now why do I say love/hate? Well, like a lot of passions in life, there are times when you absolutely love what you’re doing and other times when you wish you could kick it to the curb. As a competitive gymnast, I loved learning all the new tricks. But the blood, sweat and tears (yes, that’s literal) that it takes to get your routines together, to polish them until they shine – takes hours of concentration, focus, and determination.

 I spent my teenage years in chalky, sweat smelling gym. Sure there were cleaners who made sure everything was sanitized from week to week, but whenever I stepped into a gym, especially my training gym – it was the smell of home. And home is never complete without your family. I will never forget my comrades in arms who I spent 5-6 days a week with in our home away from home. We girls celebrated a lot together – accomplishments, birthdays, defeats, victories. We traveled together as a team both for our club and for our province. We saw the rise and fall of gym clubs, and endured coaching changes. A couple of girls I knew even made it as far as the Olympics. There was the occasional cat fight, but in the end we always made up because we had each other, and sometimes when you’ve fallen and face planted on the mat, it takes another gym sister to help you pick yourself up again.

Over the years, and through the power of Facebook, I’ve kept in touch with some of my friends. I will admit that I especially went my own way after a time. I coached various levels of gymnasts for 25 years and ran a gym club at one time. My studies at University centered around Human Movement (Kinesiology). I even ended up teaching at University level for a short few years. But life has a way of showing you that you have other passions inside of you, and so I turned a lot of my focus to writing.

These days my family consists of my children and all that they do. While raising them, I have had the opportunity to publish two collections of poetry, and I now have six books published by three different publishers. As you can imagine, my writing family has grown exponentially in the past two years, and like my gym sisters, my writing sisters & brothers are there to celebrate in my accomplishments, rejections, and life happenings. It’s always wonderful to have such a large support system, and I’m grateful every day for those who have graced my life.

Most of my writing to date is erotic romance of varying heat levels, but I now have one sweet, short romance due out with Secret Cravings Publishing. Secret Cravings Publishing took a chance on my Love and Balance series which centers around my first passion – gymnastics. These books focus on the lives of gymnastics coaches as they struggle to find love and balance in their personal and professional lives. Books 1 & 2 are out now and Book 3 (Tumbling Hearts) has been contracted with a fall release date. Here’s a little about them:

Book1, Rebound:

Claire LeMay is at the top of her game – she’s head of a prominent gymnastics facility with her gymnasts winning awards for her outstanding choreography. Now her biggest challenge is to coach alongside the man she’s avoided for three years after he demanded she live in his shadow instead of forging her own path.

After sinking every penny of his inheritance into his state-of-the-art gymnastics facility, Justin Black has achieved his dream. But even with hundreds of members and well-trained coaches, when Claire’s presence invades his space, he reluctantly admits she’s the one thing missing in his life. Oblivious as to why she walked out on him three years ago, he attempts to call a truce.

As their old passion tumbles out faster than a gymnast sprinting down the vault runway, they realize they are in the same impossible position as they were three years ago. Are they destined to repeat the same old routine or will they be able to choreograph a new one?

Book 2, The Perfect Score: Shelley Longstaff finally has her chance to be in charge only to rue the day when she is asked to train the dreaded Anna Fortier, a gymnast who has no sense of sportsmanship and makes everyone in her vicinity miserable. When Shelley refuses, she’s threatened with a lawsuit by her father. To make things worse, Shelley has an inexplicable attraction to the arrogant rich lawyer!

Since his wife’s death five years ago, Jacques (Jack) Fortier does whatever it takes to protect what is his. Shelley’s club is his last resort to keep his daughter in the sport, but threatening to sue her isn’t exactly his smartest move. When she grudgingly agrees to give Anna a chance, he finds himself attracted to the spritely gymnastics coach – the first woman he’s had any feelings for since his wife passed away.

As Shelley and Jack leap over the line in their parent-coach relationship, Shelley worries over falling in love with a man who admittedly still loves his late wife. But when a crisis of teenage proportions threatens their relationship, will they risk everything for the chance to achieve The Perfect Score?

Here’s what one reader review had to say about Rebound:

“Ms. Kamryn really delivers a sensual and emotionally moving story in Rebound. Her writing style flows like poetry and creates stunning mental images. With her own background in sports, there is a sense of realism present in her story that makes the plot more believable. Her heroine is a down-to-earth woman with hopes, dreams, and challenges. And the hero in the story is someone I’d like to meet, masculine and sexy, but with a heart.”

Another reader reviewer had this to say:

“I’ve read a few of Ms. Kamryn’s books, but this one by far was my favorite. I liked that the romance was realistic, and the conflict believable. There was a constant chemistry between her characters, and the sex was smoking hot.”

These books aren’t by far my more erotic work, but there is a high level of sensuality in these books. (If that kind of book isn’t for you, please check out my website to read excerpts. I have heat and content warnings on my site. I apologize that not all third party sites rate the heat content as was pointed out by one reader.) If you love a good story with steamy love scenes, then please check out my books.

To conclude, should you find yourself embarking on a passionate adventure, I hope you find a great “family” to share it with you and support when you need. I am the person I am today because of the people I’ve had the pleasure to meet. And if any of you are in the Atlanta, Georgia area October 6th, please be sure to drop by the Hilton Northeast, Norcross where the Moonlight and Magnolias conference will be hosting a Book Fair and Signing for Literacy Event. I will be there to sign my books and would love to meet readers!

Today one lucky person who leaves a comment will receive a copy of one of Kellie’s books.

About Kellie Kamryn

A full-time mom, Kellie Kamryn spends most of her days as an occasional chauffeur, part-time cook, half-time maid, arm-chair psychologist, and full-time Captain of her crew. In her spare time, she uses her imagination to write stories and poetry that sweep herself and readers into other worlds – everything from sweet to hot, steamy prose that will melt your heart (or your undies)! Her vivid story-telling and quirky sense of humor have gained her numerous 5-star reader and reviewer reviews. Truly multi-talented, when she has absolute quiet, she does voice work for one of her publishers by recording audio books.

PRO member of the Romance Writers of America, Kellie is a regular contributing blogger for the Ass Cheek Angels, and the Naughty Romance Writers. She is also a motivational speaker who will be presenting her workshop 10 Ways to Stay Positively Motivated In Writing and In Life at the Moonlight and Magnolias Conference in Georgia later this year. If you have questions for her, would like to order signed copies of any of her titles in print, or book her for a speaking engagement, please fill out the comment form on the website and she will be happy to get back to you as soon as possible.

Connect with Kellie Kamryn

Website:  www.kelliekamryn.com
Facebook: www.facebook.com/KellieKamryn,
twitter: https://twitter.com/#!/KellieKamryn
blog: www.kelliekamryn.blogspot.com

Don’t be shy! Say hello! And thanks to the wonderful ladies of Petit Fours and Hot Tamales for having me as a guest on their blog!

Signed copies of my paperbacks may be ordered through my site.

A week or so ago I came across a couple of articles on Twitter that really made me think about racism, particularly how it relates to my own writing. The first article is more generally about ‘hipster racism’—I’m not sure I have a working definition of ‘hipster’ yet, so you’re going to have to read that one yourself. The second article points out the dearth of minority main characters, particularly in shows set in New York. Both of those articles gave me pause. Why don’t I have more minority characters? Is it because I suffer from this ‘hipster racism’?

Maybe I write too much of what I know? But, Sally, you say, you have all sorts of different friends. And this is true. Some of my favorite people on this planet just happen to be black or Hispanic or gay, but my high school had a minority population of less than ten percent. I didn’t meet my first openly gay person until I was in college as he nonchalantly told me his boyfriend had tossed him out. Naïve and sheltered by geography, I spent a good deal of my life being uncomfortable about people who were “other” simply because almost everyone I knew was white.

Maybe I’m afraid I won’t get it right? I’ve been criticized for my portrayal of teachers (I was a teacher), of southerners (yep, one of those two), and even of bean-pickers (did my share of that, too). I could dismiss those comments, though, because I knew my interpretation was, at the very least, true to my own experience. One of the first criticisms to really hurt me, though, was that of my gay florist. He was a former football player long before Cameron on Modern Family  or Karofsky on Glee made such characters cool. He was probably a touch too effeminate, but to me he had depth and courage to live so openly in such a small town. What did the judges say? Stereotypical. Then I had an African American woman lawyer. In my mind she was as tough as nails because she’d had to be. In my mind, her struggle to get out of the projects mirrored my protagonist’s struggle with her rural roots. What did the students who critiqued it say? Stereotypical. I’d love to defend myself on that one, but that critique scarred me to the point I took her out of the novel and didn’t write another black character until my current WIP. Honestly, it’s hard for me to say if the problem came from the characters I created or my inability to convey who they were on paper. I can assure you I’ve never intentionally written a stereotypical caricature, but both of those stories came from early on in my career when I couldn’t even write educated-country-girl-with-a-love-of-cows properly.

Maybe—and I think we have a winner here—maybe I’m afraid of what my friends would say. Maybe I’m afraid I won’t have any friends after I finish writing this blog post, but sometimes we need to speak the truth. My truth is that I don’t know what’s up with the writers on Sex in the City, Friends, Seinfeld, Girls, or How I Met Your Mother, but I think it’s possible that they, too, don’t write minority characters out of fear. And the more I think about that fear, the more I believe the only way we are ever going to get beyond racism is to eradicate fear in all of its forms whether it be the more insidious fear of people who aren’t exactly like you or the less harmless yet still debilitating fear of disappointing or offending those we love and respect.

So, I vow to include more diversity in my books–and by diversity I mean anyone who’s not exactly like me. I’ve been wrestling with a particular story that needs to be told through a male perspective, and I’ve had trouble squaring with that. But good writing, the best writing stretches us in a quest for truth. Keeping my little fictional world lily white, exceedingly female, and straight as an arrow is a) unrealistic and b)cowardly.

P.S. On this Tuesday right after Mother’s Day, I want to say thank you to my mother. She shaped my thoughts. She taught me that all people are God’s children. She taught me to look beyond prejudice and stereotype and to always imagine how the other person feels in any situation. Any mistakes I make are mine, but I’m so lucky to have had such a loving and empathetic person as my mother.

I made a road trip out to Oklahoma last week.  My father’s father is from that part of the world and I still have cousins that live in the area. It is a seventeen hour drive but I broke it into smaller parts that made it more doable.

Lavern, Oklahoma is a tiny town in the center of the beginning of the panhandle. The part where the handle joins the pan, Lavern would be a bolt.  By east coast standards this part of the US is a lonely, desolate area. My father used to say “you can see further and see less than anywhere else in the word. “ That hasn’t changed in the fifty three years I’ve been making visits.

My grandfather was born in the territory of Oklahoma in little more than a shack. My family pioneered the land. A couple of brothers from Pennsylvania rode their horses out to the open territory. They wrote back “come on out, the grass is as high as a horse’s belly.” My ancestors loaded everything they owned in a wagon and went west.  They built a homesteaded.

Land was divided into sections made up of 640 areas. In order to own a full section, a person had to sleep on it for five years. So, my family built a house on the corner of the quarter  sections, each sleeping in a room over that section. This would give them plenty of land to farm. Over one hundred years later, the house in still standing and my cousin is living in it. That home has been added on to, changed around but it is still on the original sections.

My grandfather died from a ruptured appendix two months before my father was born. Growing up, my Dad would visit his Oklahoma side of the family by hitchhiking and riding the train from Nashville, Tennessee where he lived with his mother.  Daddy said he would get on the train with the cowboys carrying their saddles, and that it stuck awful.

The night of my visit, I shared a wonderful evening with two of my cousins and rode over a small plot of land that is part of my inheritance.  I stopped by the town cemetery on my way out of town the next morning.  There I remembered my great aunt and uncle who love me as much as they had loved my Dad, and who had shown him who his father was though them.  My great grandmother lies next to them on the rise above town.

Lavern has changed little since those days or from the time I visited as a child but it still gives me a little thrill to visit. I never knew my grandfather but through visits to Lavern, returning to my heritage I become strong in whom I am.

Do you have a story of your heritage?

Can you answer these questions correctly?

1)   The petals of which flower cover Mena Suvari in 1999’s “American Beauty”?

2)   What was Mary Stuart Masterson’s favourite flower in the movie, “Bed of Roses”?

3)   In “It’s a Wonderful Life” (1945), what flower shields Mary (Donna Reed) when her bathrobe comes loose?

4)   What flower-themed song does Uncle Billy (Thomas Mitchell) sing about?

5)   What was Princess Diana’s favorite flower to receive?

6)  What was Kathleen Kelly’s (Meg Ryan) favorite flower in the movie, “You’ve Got Mail”?

Answers:  1-Rose, 2-A Sterling Rose, 3-Hydrangea, 4-My Wild Irish Rose, 5-Long-stemmed Yellow Roses, 6-Daisy

It’s May and many of us are thinking flowers.  Also, many are planting flowers or planted them earlier.  For me, this year, I’ve been planting wave petunias in baskets.  There are purple and lavender in a couple of baskets, and one basket of white and pink.  I have Knockout Roses, azaleas, a rhododendron bush, a snowball bush, yellow belles, hydrangea, gardenias and an African lily.  All of these make spring a divine time to roam around the yard while outside.  I do like planting flowers, but I admit, pushing a wheel borrow around in the hot sun, is not my favorite thing to do.  I do the hanging baskets and flower pots, but if it’s in the yard, hubby wants to do it—and I graciously allow this.

Oh, yes, I nearly forgot.  My favorite?  It’s very hard to say.  I do love hydrangeas, but I would also say my favorite is an iris, but sometimes it just depends on what I walk by.  Flowers are truly a wonder of God that I think are just beautiful.

Still having trouble deciding on your favorite?  What does your favorite flower say about your personality and style?

Daisy: Refreshing and unpretentious, this type is often sunny and optimistic, loving to spend lots of time in nature, and preferring clothes that don’t mind getting a little rumpled. Choose fresh, natural colors and crisp fabrics. Image: A casual picnic on a patchwork quilt spread out in a sunny field of wildflowers.

Gardenia: Exotic and a bit sultry, this type often favors saturated colors and sensuous textures, an air of mystery and an Asian flair. You may want to explore brightly-colored brocades and embroidered fabrics, or pieces sewn with tiny mirrors. Image: Moonlight shines through incense smoke onto the silken draperies of an exotic boudoir.

Iris: Meditative and with a deep sense of spirituality, this type often prefers simple, cool-colored clothes that move well, and that impart a sense of ease and serenity. Image: A still pool reflects the misty dawn light; a heron stands quietly nearby.

Poppy: Vibrant and creative, this type is unconventional and even a bit quirky, always ready to explore new things. Choose unusual color combinations, vintage pieces, and clothes inspired by works of art or the cinema. Image: A jazz band plays against the background of a vivid, expressive mural.

Rose: Warm, and with an old-fashioned sense of femininity, this type is often a deep-dyed romantic with a timeless sense of style that never goes out of fashion. Choose classic pieces in warm colors that enhance your womanly curves. Image: A cozy table set for two with candles casting a warm glow on the vase of full-blown roses.

Violet: Sensitive, private, and complex, this type may take a little time to get to know, but she is definitely worth it! Her style tends to be understated but tastefully and quietly elegant. Choose subtle colors and soft fabrics that feel good against your skin. Image: A secret garden at sunset; at the foot of the mossy brick wall, small flowers bloom.

(http://www.care2.com/greenliving/favorite-flower-personality-type.html)

At the first of every year, people make a list (mental or written) of their goals—things they plan…or hope…to accomplish during the next year.  The sad truth is that statistics show people tend to make the same goals each year…with just as much fervor and just as much determination…but seldom stick to the plan long enough to reach the finish line. 

Why is this?  Oh!  I bet I know.  I mentioned, “sticking to the plan”….  Do you even make a plan on how to reach that goal? Or do you just toss out grand intentions of what you’d like to do (sounding much like a politician) without first figuring out what needs to happen if you are to accomplish what you’ve promised yourself?  Or have all those past failures convinced your subconscious that you can’t do it, so why try so hard, thus setting yourself up for another failure.

If I were going to give someone just one hint on how to reach those goals, I’d start by getting that person to acknowledge if there had been past attempts at this same goal.  Then I’d tell them that they must put a leash on their subconscious by telling it that this time WILL be different.  But HOW will it be different?  Ah, now I’ll get to the one hint I’d give the person.

 Much like a writer starting a book by writing an outline, after deciding on your goal, you need to plan out the process.  Okay, so that might not sound revolutionary, but hang in there and I’ll try to quickly get to the point.

 How do you eat an elephant?  In small bites.

When my daughter, Kim Barker, turned 40 and committed to participating in an Iron Man triathlon, she had already been doing 5Ks, 10Ks, half marathons, even a half Iron Man.  So deciding to commemorate her “BIG 4-0” with an Iron Man was a reasonable goal…as long as she stuck to the plan that would get her body in shape for the abuse of a 2.4 mi swim, 112 mile bike ride, & a 26.2 mile run.  (click on her name to read a blog article about her race.)

 In fact, on August 6, 2010, I also wrote about my son-in-law, Kent Barker,  (click his name to view)  and his goal of doing an Iron Man and how health almost stopped him.  BUT with perseverance and commitment to that goal, he went to Kona, Hawaii and raced to victory.  (The article includes a video interview that Channel 9 in Washington D.C. did on Kent.)

Just as Kim set interim goals on her road to victory, everyone who has a goal should do the same.    For instance, writing 1 page a day…or averaging 500 new words every day is an interim goal.  So is finishing the first chapter of your new book and then the first three chapters.  In losing weight, you might set a date for losing the first 10 pounds and once you accomplish that, reset the interim goal to 15 or 20 pounds. 

 Always reset the goal and always stretch yourself to do just a tiny bit more each time.  An hour on the treadmill every other day for the past month at a certain speed?  Great!  Now push the speed up a notch or two…or increase the incline by a degree or two.  Before you know it, you’ll be crossing the finish line with your arms held up high in victory!

Share an accomplished goal with us…or one you’re currently working on that you’ve made progress on.    OR, did this article spur you on to making a goal that you now plan to accomplish?    Leave a comment and you just might be the victorious one and win a $5.00 Starbucks card.  And if you have been inspired today to tackle a new goal and your name is pulled, I’ll throw in an extra little surprise as a congratulations.   Good luck!

I Share My Office

Yes, that’s right.  I share my office.  Not with another writer, but with two dogs who think they own the place.  When I started writing, I began in our bedroom in a small corner.  The clicking noise kept my husband awake, so I moved to a small room off my baby’s bedroom.  Same problem.  Next stop? A corner in the kitchen where I put my massively large computer, but the space was MINE.  Over the years, if we moved houses, I carved out other areas that were mine alone.  I added a nik-nak or item that made the space seem personal and important to me.  And I kept at it.

These days, I have a full bedroom that is right off the master.  I have a desk that’s always messy and a recliner where I do my writing during the day.  In the evenings, I move to the bedroom and keep the laptop with me in the bed if I’m working.  I’ve long since given up a large computer in favor of a Macbook Air and it travels with me everywhere.

As for the dogs? One lays behind the recliner chair, the other lays on the floor in front of it.  Occasionally they chase each other around the office, or wrestle there.  The other day, the wheaten (the wheat colored one <g>) and the biggest one, jumped straight into my lap on top of the computer.  They know no boundaries and I wouldn’t want it any other way.

Here are a few pics for your enjoyment.  I love my space and it helps me create.  But the lessonhere is you don’t need a room, you just need a corner to call your own.

Carly Phillip’s Bio

N.Y. Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Carly Phillips has written over 30 romance novels with contemporary characters and small town settings that today’s readers identify with and enjoy.  She’s a writer, a knitter of sorts, a wife, and a mom to two daughters (16 and20!) and two crazy dogs (a 1 year old Havanese named Brady and a 4 year old wheaten terrier named Bailey).  In addition, she’s a Twitter and Internet junkie and is always around to interact with her readers.   Carly lives in Purchase, New York and would love for you to like and follow her on the ‘Net!

Find Carly on the web:

Carly’s Website – www.carlyphillips.com

Carly on Twitter – www.twitter.com/carlyphillips

Carly on Facebook – www.facebook.com/carlyphillipsfanpage

Carly on Pinterest – www.pinterest.com/carlyphillips

WARNING: Some pictures in this post may make sensitive viewers a little nauseated.

Carol’s been blogging about her phoebes lately, so not to be outdone, I thought I’d tell you about the feathered creatures who have taken refuge in our carport. Especially after hubby got his cell phone and took some photos.

First of all, we’ve had a birth. Several of them, in fact. No, not me. It’s a mama robin.

Here are her four little chick-a-dees, all eager for a bite of food. (Kids can be so demanding.)

Hubby noticed this nest and the mama sitting on it for weeks and we anxiously awaited the hatching, hoping the neighborhood cat wouldn’t discover them before the little ones had a chance.

And here they finally are.

Hubby’s read they’ll fly away in about three weeks. They grow up so soon.

To the right is the proud Mama out hunting for grub, or earthworms. A mother’s job is never done. (Please excuse the weeds.)

In the middle of our carport sits the empty nest of the first invaders–I mean visitors (though they acted like we were renting from them).

Their babies flew the coop about a week ago. We weren’t sure what type of bird this was, but the mother was small and gray. Hubby thinks she was a Tufted Titmouse.

The mother was very protective, flying out of the nest every time we pulled up, trying to distract us. Lucky for her, we aren’t feline. (By the way, please ignore the white stain on the rafter. We’ll have to paint again. Sigh.)

And speaking of that stain, here’s the final photo (see above warning before looking). Our feathered tenants certainly made a mess, but at least they missed the car. Anyone know a good pressure washer?

So what has your spring been like?

When writer’s block sets up camp in your soul and refuses to leave, it’s only natural a writer find another way. My other way comes in the form of Letters to My Daughter. Mind you, they are housed in a black leather-bound journal, but they begin with a date and “Dear Lovey”  and end “with love from Mom.” To me, that constitutes letters and it’s letters I’ve been writing to her since December 5, 2011, 372 days after her dad, my ex-husband announced he was leaving. It was at that point I decided that I had to get some things off my chest, exorcise a few demons.

I must admit, not every day has been filled with love. In the beginning I poured out my heart in the only way I knew how, talking about the pain, the games, and how the torture just kept going. The clocks kept ticking. The sound that made me insane when my daughter was first born – tick tock tick tock – reminding me how quickly she was growing became the sound that my heart synced up to in order to keep beating. And with every heart beat life moved on, slowly. Lovey grew upward, up to 44 inches in March, and my heart grew a little stronger. I’m still waiting for wings to sprout, but for now, at least it can beat on its own.

It kept time with the world yesterday and granted me joy in experiencing the little things and the ability to write about them. Things like:

The color Moroccan red, which now artfully adorns our kitchen and makes me smile each time I glance in that direction; cats purring and mewing around my ankles as they seek out a snack, and a little Buddy who refuses to leave my side; the smell of roses and gardenia growing together; any blue bird God ever created followed closely by red, then yellow; the romantic trill of a cowbird; a bullfrog croaking along with the sound the water makes as it pours over the rocks; the smell of rain as storm clouds begin to loom; the sight of brightly colored leaves and flowers spreading out across our vegetable garden knowing tasty, fresh vegetables aren’t far behind; learning Lovey had written her very first stories in school yesterday and her confidence as she proudly read them to me; the sound of her sobs as she begged, “Mommy, please, please let me sleep in your bed tonight because I miss you and…I’m crying” – sweet, funny girl; the sound of her softly snoring as she lay on the pillow next to mine; the breeze rustling the leaves outside my window and the tinkling sound of rain drops bouncing off the window; the sound of friends laughing, especially Mickey who has the heartiest laugh ever to leave a man’s chest; my mom and aunt as they feed off of one another’s hysterical laughter until they both begin to cry and the priceless looks of confusion on my father’s and uncle’s faces; the sound doves make as they launch into the sky; and the moment I once again experienced true joy.

Every day I write a letter to my little girl. Each day is different, yet each one offers the promise that life really is getting better. MAybe someday she’ll accept it as my gift of wit and wisdom about how purely crazy our lives were way back when. Maybe someday the pain, the games , and the torture will stop. Maybe someday my heart will sprout wings and lift my soul whistling as doves do when they fly away.

What little things have you experienced that have brought you joy?