Posted in Memoir, Musings, Soul Journal


One of the virtues of moving is purging. Having lived in this house, our home, for 18 years, we have amassed quite a bit. “Junk!” my husband calls it. It! It is, sad to say, all too often junk.

To say that word. Junk. It saddens me to think our lives revolve, as synchronized as the planet, but we manage to weigh down our wings with junk!

Moving, i learn to fly…

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