Rebecca’s Reflections

The Last Time I Saw My Father

The Last Time I Saw My Father

My father’s later years were difficult. He bounced from one nursing home to another, his peripatetic life precipitated by his refusal to stay where he was put. By the time my father entered his first nursing home, he was losing his ability to walk. He had nearly lost...

Closing the Cabin

Closing the Cabin

October 28—Sunday I’ve drained the pipes—mostly—and packed the car—mostly. All I have left are the personal things I’ll need for the evening, food, my laptop, and a few odds and ends. I decided to put Wilson’s bed in the car already. I’m glad I did because it’s...

It’s Time to Go

It’s Time to Go

I’ve come to end of my writer’s retreat.  It has been a fabulous retreat.  A treat of a retreat. When I arrived on October 1, Monday, the trees were in leaf and vines and grass sprung thickly from the paths, grabbing at my ankles as I pushed my way through. During the...

A Storm is Brewing (and so is a story)

A Storm is Brewing (and so is a story)

October 15, 2012 A storm is brewing (and so is a story). The sky has grown a milky grey and the wind is quickly denuding the trees, sending leaves swirling over the tin roof, scratching its surface as they crash to the ground below.  It feels like November...

Dogs, Not Bears

Dogs, Not Bears

From the moment I awoke the sun was working its way out, tinting the sky outside my window a wispy lavender. Wilson saw that I was awake and came over to give me a lick on the lips.   I tolerated it.   Since he is normally so undemonstrative, I don’t mind an...

Hemlock Haven

Hemlock Haven

Hemlock Haven was my mother’s place.  She discovered a quiet grove of hemlocks on the southern point of the Tennessee property.  The hemlock branches were low and stately and ferns grew in the bed of needles beneath them. My father built my mother a little bench under...

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