Five Years a Writer

Change is the one constant we can count on... Amanda June 30th : This day last year was my final day at my college-instructor desk.  The next day was the first day of my next chapter. Tomorrow, July 1st, will mark the end of my first 365 days as a retired person, a retiree. Whatever that means to you, for me it means having the time to explore who I am in this next chapter, in this Third Act, and what I'm doing as myself in my own time.  It turns out, the longer I am retired, the more things I am interested in doing in the time I now have.  Today, in addition to being a writer, collage artist, and community educator, I am also a writing coach. You can read about this newest identity I am evolving into  here . Holly The other day , Holly, the cat, pulled a disappearing act that caused my heart to lodge itself in my throat. I have written before about how she has gone missing or, to be more accurate, has hidden herself from our view. So, this time, I thought I knew all the places to

Black cats: good luck or bad? She — let’s call her Joelle — was lucky to get the morning off, back on November 8, 2016, so she could cast her vote for Hillary. Her cousin was not so lucky; she had to take unpaid leave. She did, but it cost her wages just to cast her ballot.  She — let’s call her Marianne — was lucky that her appointment at the clinic in Salt Lake City, Utah was for the evening of June 23, 2022. She was able to get the abortion she had chosen. Her colleague’s sister was not so lucky; that woman’s appointment was for Saturday, June 25th and, by then, it was too late. The Supreme Court decision in Dobbs had come down on June 24th, upon which Utah made inducing an abortion a second degree felony,  and her appointment was cancelled. She  —  let’s just call her Doctor  —  was sitting at the kitchen table, large windows behind her, overlooking the extensive back yard. She bent down to pet the cat just as the bullet shattered the window; aimed at her head, it skimmed her skul