: About Me

Many years ago a baby cries. In the crib with no one to answer. Too many drinks the night before, too many other children to answer the child who is presumed safe in the crib. Bring the child to the department, a home is found. The child is taken to a home where love is provided and the cries are answered. The child must return to mother, whom the state presumes is the best place for her to be. Again, the child cries, this time to be answered with pain. The child stops crying. Drugs become an antidote to a silent cry. Screaming silently with actions that require an answer, the symbol of safety steps forward and again, the teenager is placed with love. The damage has been done and sex replaces the drugs. Protection is provided to mold a teenager into an adult. The baby becomes an adult as a teenager. Children begat children. The children become adults. The cycle has been broken. The adult, in order to stop the pain experienced by the unanswered cries of the crib, becomes a voice to those who's cries are silent.

My passion is ...

My Family

I know too much about ...

child abuse and child neglect.

My parents always told me ...

My foster mother always told me to never say good-bye.

My childhood ambition ...

To be a mother, get my driver's license, and to be a wife.

My favorite memory ...

Stolen moments, like playing with my children and now thier children, without concern as to the passage of time.

Why I write ...

It releases me.

What I am reading/watching/listening to ...

I am reading about beading, listening to country music and watching my computer screen.

My first job ...

was as a secretary for a transfer company.

My best moment ...

Would have to be when my son graduated from bootcamp and the look on my daughter's face when she answered her first emergency call as a volunteer fireman on an all male force.

My inspiration ...

God, my family.

Creative Writing > Short Stories Short stories: Summer

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The breeze was hot and heavy, almost too much to endure. The sun's burning rays reached down to those lying on the beach, embracing them with the heat of the moment. The seagulls flew slowly over the inlet as if the weather was even too hot for them. The children ran up and down at water's edge, splashing in the coolness that it offered, oblivious to the heat that consumed them and their surroundings. "Look Bubby!" The boy of about 6 years old, with his hair cut as if he was a Marine and his skin lightly browned by the sun, didn't hear the little girl who called for him. The little boy was...

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