Chronic Illness, NonFiction, Psychology, writing

There was an Old Woman Named Sarah

I remember Sarah. I find it hard to stay in the now with my writing. Now is weaving down the hall like a drunk—plunking away at the keyboard with two fingers. But I remember Sarah. She was my best friend’s mother. At 84, and living in assisted living, she was a bright spot in my… Continue reading There was an Old Woman Named Sarah