If the Shoe Fits

Quirky Yogi Berra once said, “When you come to a fork in the road – take it”. Duh. That’s a pretty good reason to make this post the last on my Write Brain Widow journey.

I realized that to continue the trip, with complete authenticity, I’d need a new pair of shoes. So I packed up some dark chocolate caramel, a cool new pair of slides and the spirit of my handsome guy, who was the heart of this blog. With no destination in mind and no compass, I’m starting down the next path to see what’s behind door #2.

When I began this blog, I was a brand new widow trying to find my way through the maze of sudden, soul-decimating grief.(is there any other kind?) Through these last three years, I’ve learned that I can, indeed, be alone but not lonely; move forward but not on, and somehow grow in the process. I’ve learned to forge a new life without leaving the tender part of my heart that was my husband behind. All the posts of Write Brain Widow will continue to live in this space as well – to read or share.

The writing continues; it’s what I do. (And, hey, they don’t call my chatty chick for nothing) My words will just appear in a new blog  called ‘The Other Shoe’, which seems kind of appropriate to the unpredictability of life, no? In fact, I just wrote and posted my maiden blog there as a way of introduction.  As new thoughts, and kooky observations come, I hope you’ll continue to read and laugh and most of all offer your thoughts as well.

I’m am so grateful for the openness you’ve shown to my humble writing, for your encouragement and for becoming part of my ‘community’ and my search for a new self ‘without’. I thank each of you from my heart for what you’ve been to me here and hope that you’ll join me on the next leg of the trip at theothershoe.blog.

High heels optional.



Where’s that Time Machine?


I always played that Pollyanna ‘glad game’. You know, that mental game you use to create something to look forward to each new day. It could be the smallest, most insignificant thing but it’s always something; something to help you anticipate the next day, the next week. And sometimes, in this crazy life, you need those little ‘somethings’ badly.

I won’t say Pollyanna has left the building but now I find her annoying and clueless. I can’t seem to play the future game now, even for the next morning. All I want to do is find a way back – back to when I could hear my husband turn his key in the door. I want to turn back the clock to see my man on the couch in his spot next to the end table, where he used to tease he had ‘squatter’s” rights. Continue reading