31 Dec 2018

Both my parents had PTSD, and were themselves children of the Depression and World War II. My conception was accidental. My dad buried himself in work, leaving my mother isolated for most of the time. Alcohol was a family member. Suffice it to say that I, an only child, was poorly parented.

Fast forward 68 years. After decades of rebuilding my self through therapy, and in a long marriage with an abundantly loving, playful and talented man, I now have a family: 2 daughters and their husbands. On December 24, through a modern miracle, my husband and I sat in an airborne tin can for hours and jumped through space and back in time, from the East Coast to the West,  to celebrate the end of year holidays with our kids.

We enjoyed being together. We  loved shopping in wonderful grocery stores for ingredients, cooking and eating good food, and going for long walks in the beautiful natural world. We laughed and talked a lot. We played cribbage, farkle and gin rummy, and spent happy evenings reclining on a big sofa watching funny movies.

This photograph of the 6 of us, sitting on a bench at Ecola State Park on the Oregon Coast, taken on a rare sunny winter’s day, is precious. They inspire me to be the best that I can be, and to keep giving and growing.


This is my family. I am an integral part of my family, one member out of six.   I am grateful,  and rich beyond my wildest dreams.


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