That’s how I’d headline my teenage and young adult approach to making decisions. Safe, not sorry! I still carry remnants of this in me, even though I know nothing is necessarily safe, and there’s no guarantee I’ll never be sorry. Life isn’t safe; Read the rest of this entry »
Part 1 focused on my infatuation with a gifted young man. I can’t say I actually met him at the mission conference. He probably never knew my name. Yet I daydreamed about a possible future with him, Read the rest of this entry »
I don’t do dreams; I do daydreams. Especially about young men.
It’s summer 1957. I’m 13 ½ years old, going into 10th grade. I’m back in the achingly beautiful and romantic mountains of North Carolina. Read the rest of this entry »
Telling the Truth 