There it hangs. Waiting for me. At my son’s house. A road bike. “Why,” you ask? Well, first of all, he’s a mountain bike guy living in a place where there are hundreds of miles of paved trails and roads just tailor made for this narrow tired bike. But he’s an off-road guy. So the […]
(Note: relationships are complicated. They have a beginning, a middle and an end. This is an essay about how I coped with the end of a powerful relationship in my life. I’d found a way to direct the pain away from me—finally.) Eighteen pages. Handwritten. Single spaced. I poured out my emotions, my feelings, my
Most weeks our Saturday is comprised of a set of activities connecting us to our very local community. This week, we took a turn into a new community and ended up sitting at a new table. A short drive in East Dallas took us to Ethiopia. Really. First, though, we made our walk to the
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As I look back on this sabbatical I find I’ve been through a whole range of emotions and done quite a bit of sorting. And a few facts: Drove over 3,000 miles Walked nearly 100 miles in the 40-some days Visited just about every bike shop, independent coffee shop and brewery in the metro area
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It started out simply enough. I was in the throes of a breakup from a long-time girlfriend. I was looking for allies and friends because the breakup wasn’t just with her it was with a community. What happened in the midst of that “turmoil” was I met and re-met a number of women in my
Early on in our relationship, she mentioned a story to me that always stuck in my mind. Something she did in her pre-teen and teen years that was unconventional for a city kid, but not unusual for someone with the deep Texas roots from which she came. It was a metaphor of sorts for another
As a networker and random conversationalist, I have a tendency to observe people in hopes of engaging them in conversation. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Enter Rita. Or “Random Rita” as I’ve started to refer to her. She was the woman at Starbucks one morning. The barista called out her name, Rita, when her
It starts simply enough. Two people (or one guy and his dog and a complete stranger) strike up a conversation in a coffee shop, brewery or bike shop. Really? Why, yes, it does happen. Random conversations between people who, for the moments they are together, talk, exchange words. You meet, converse, trade stories and say
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It started out as two trips. First to a high school reunion in October. Then back again for Thanksgiving. “Why drive all those miles twice?” my sister asked. Hmmm. Good point. So I mulled it over. I could bring my computer and work remotely as I’ve done before. My clients are elsewhere anyway so what
(This essay was originally written for a friend challenged with new relationships after being widowed. However, it can be applied to anyone who has experienced loss of any kind and is looking to –or not–restart their life. Please read on.) It’s right there. Beating softly just there in her chest. That heart that has been
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