Tag: grief

September 21, 2023September 21, 2023

P.S. – If you have wondered what Chez Soi means, it is French for At home. And it is pronounced shay-swa.

I am home. in Marco Island, Florida.

“I am well into the book now. It is so brilliant! I feel so many different emotions reading it and I love the bits of irony and humor you bring to the stories, along with the questions you raise.

Now that I know how important water was to the story, I am pleased that I made it my first book to read by this new pool we are going to after we work out.

I appreciate the way you have moved between the dramatic passages and the lighter, witty, thought-provoking chapters of the story….changing, variously, the time frame, the tone and the location. It gives the narrative an interesting momentum and energy that for me is very engaging.

I am savoring each chapter and each story like I don’t want it to end. I love the style of writing,

I ordered Lucy, go see. and it should arrive just in time so I can roll from one to the other. Congratulations on publishing this amazing book!”

I am home. in freedom.

“It’s really a book about freedom, about what it takes to live as a free-spirit in this world,” this reader wrote from Chicago.

Available wherever books are sold.

I am home. in the Pyrenees.

Coming back to home.

Another from KK’s list of Scintillating Sentences. This one hints at the humor peppered throughout the book. I love it when readers tell me they laughed out loud while reading. Cried and laughed. Two great releases. A male reader who speaks English as a second language recently wrote, “Yes, some pages made me cry.”

“That seems a good thing– a good grieving cry does wonders,” I answered.

“Yes, it’s good because you feel pain going out,” he replied.

Pain going out. I love that.

I am home forgetting.

Another from KK’s list of Scintillating Sentences.

It’s true, I write to remember and to forget. Versatile, useful writing that does so much for the writer, and often and eventually, the reader. And what makes a writer? Writing. It can be a way of remembering, forgetting, playing, imagining, wondering, searching, asking, answering, corresponding, reading, soothing, and more. Write, I say, write. You can do whatever you want with it during and after.

August 25, 2023December 6, 2023

Things I saw at home.

Again from KK’s list of Scintillating Sentences. It was shocking, painful, and scary to watch the way some healthcare workers treated my parents and other elders. I love to see elderhood revered and cherished, while I know some older people still need to earn the status of mature elder. No matter our age, we deserve vital respectful healthcare, the kind that helps us stay fully alive while we are still here. Remember how being a senior in high school was cool? Let’s think about seniors in life that way, too. Seniors at living, soon-to-be graduates from the school of life. They know stuff and can teach us things. We are all at home, going home, and need help.

Available wherever books are sold.

August 10, 2023August 10, 2023

A question from home.

From KK’s list of Scintillating Sentences.

And here is one from my list of favorite songs by Robbie Robertson.

August 7, 2023August 26, 2023

Scintillating Sentences

“Scintillating Sentences” is what one reader calls the three-page list of sentences she underlined as she read, and then sent to me. Rather than posting them all at once, I think I will share them one at a time when the feeling hits. The one I have chosen for today makes me feel good and reminds me it can be a prayer. I remember the wonder of hearing myself say it out loud. And later, the realization that came after writing it, looking at it on the page, and knowing that was the first time in my life I felt that. I love revision. Re-vision. That great gift writing gives us to look at what we have to say again and to see it in new ways. This simple 14-word sentence is a prism through which to consider love, divinity, body, woman, and human. The scene in which it is uttered evokes the gratitude the narrator feels for what her body does for her, what it tells her, how it helps her. The body is active, the body is divine, the body is a messenger.

“Beyond brava!!! So so moving in myriad meandering meaning-filled ways,” the reader wrote at the top of the list.

Where the Atlantic Ocean merges with the Caribbean Sea, I am home. with Lucy, go see.

Another reader in Florida sent this image from Miami Beach. She read I am home. first and that made her want to read Lucy, go see. and tell her friends to read them both, too. “Your writing is superb. Your metaphors are really unique and lovely. I had a great time. Honestly didn’t want the books to end. I think they should be movies.”

August 4, 2023August 4, 2023

I am home. in Florida.

A reader sent this photo from Miami and it has left me speechless for a while. I think about motherhood when I look at it. Then I look at the breasts of what appears to be a child because of its size and what seems to be a breast-less woman holding her, and why do I think it is a woman? Because of the shape of the waist and the hips. And that breastlessness makes me think of St. Agatha. And then there is the size of the feet and I am home., a traveling book, at the feet, of this image of bigness seemingly protecting smallness. And this makes me think of another reader’s comment about how the book is about the extraordinary of the ordinary, though this image is hardly ordinary. I could probably ask someone who knows. Look at it, though, above all, headless. Headless. What happens when we lose our heads? Or when we get out of our heads and decide to live with the body and place less focus on the mind? We each have our own answers to these questions that I like to think about when I look at this image. I am home. is filled with similar questions and occasional attempts to answer them. In this way, it is also about acceptance of things as they are. It can also be a statement about being home anywhere in any way.

And when I look at it, for some reason, this sentence that many readers have liked from I am home. floats into my mind: These three bodies-the one I came from, mine, and the one I gave life to-all connect to one happiness.