Sometimes in the quiet solitude of now, the screams of tomorrow pierce the blackness. Anger, frustration, and the realization of failed preparation cut like shards of glass. I sit helplessly behind my screen.
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Rain fell lightly from the solid sheet of gray overhead and the wind picked up as the school bus rolled to a stop in front of our mailbox. As Abby stepped from the pot-holed gravel driveway onto the street, the petals from the pear tree jumped off onto the breeze and flew like a hundred tiny butterflies, white against the spring green background.
Read MoreI didn't expect the Vietnam Memorial to have such a profound effect on me as we descended into the ground.
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Rolling down winding roads, past fields blanketed in snow and round bales dressed in winter white, the pavement cuts through thick woods that shed their individuality in October, and now wear this season’s color…a grey-brown that blends Maples, Ash and Oak.
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