The journal
One story
at a time.
A place for the memories, the things on my mind, and whatever I’m trying next.
Before I Could Move
We were bringing the hay home to put it in the barn. Then I saw my stepdad turn around. He was yelling, waving his arms frantically, and trying to tell me something.
Read the opening ↗I’ve got a few stories.
I’ve thought about telling my life story. For now, I’m starting right here: one memory, one thought, one post at a time.
Read the first post ↗Something sound familiar?
You’re welcome to write. I’d love to hear from you.