The Writer’s Retreat was Amazing!

A dream of mine came true.

For several years now I’ve been thinking of creating a writer’s retreat. Why? I’ll tell you.

I wrote a book seven years ago and it has done well. I love my little book and I knew I wanted to write another. While taking care of my mom, I was really stuck. When she passed, I started two other books within a year but was stuck again.

I’m a wedding coordinator and my season usually starts in spring and ends in the fall. Last year it didn’t end until December. My writing season is honestly, the dead of winter. That is when it is the most quiet and my brain can relax.

The frustrating part is the wait. I know I’m going to get to my writing season and at times, it’s agonizing. But I’m too busy to sit down and just do it. I get overwhelmed thinking about it and then you know what happens. Nothing.

I searched for writer’s retreats with the idea being to sequester myself and be motivated by other writers. Most of the ones that interested me were a distance away and expensive. There’s one I’d like to go to but it’s on an island (in the Northern part of the US) and though it would probably be an amazing experience, it’s darn expensive. The process of writing a book is free, but everything else about it costs money.

So my thoughts turned to creating a writer’s retreat. I have talented friends- an editor/ publisher and a graphic designer (who designed my book and cover)- and they were willing to be a part of it. Then, I kept getting emails from a retreat center about an hour from me, and one day it hit me. Retreat center= writer’s retreat!

So I contacted Jenni at the Forest and Flowers Retreat and we began to talk. Originally I was going to do all of the planning, but Jenni made an offer. She wanted to turn it into a entire weekend. After several more discussions, we honed in on the accommodations, food, and reservations- and the entire writer’s day/optional weekend was born!

What unfolded was nothing short of magical. Here’s the highlights.

  1. I saw two mama deer, each with one baby, just minutes from the retreat center. And all because Karen and I passed up the entrance accidentally. A definite sign of a spiritual connection.
  2. The sky was a gorgeous shade of blue.
  3. We didn’t need heat in the morning nor A/C in the afternoon. A perfect day!
  4. Cori, Karen, and Sue were amazing presenters.
  5. The guests were even more amazing!
  6. Jenni was the consummate host. She had everything laid out so well and attractively, exactly as I would have wanted to do myself.
  7. The food was delicious, especially the apple cider donuts.
  8. The attendees were engaged, motivated, and inspired.
  9. I came away with new friends.
  10. We received lots of hugs and thanks.

So there. I helped make this day happen, but it was the people in it that made it so special. I do feel a renewed sense of commitment to my writing- to my two books I have already started, and to the third one that has been spinning in my head since the last one.

Cori said to make writing a part of our routine. To go where we can best unleash ourselves whether that be a coffee shop, library, or a room in our home. For me, dedicating time to writing needs to be a given, a treat, and not a chore. I have resisted, partly because I blamed the isolation of it as unattractive. But truly, I will attempt to change my attitude towards a brighter light. It could be a release, a relaxation, and a joy to do a book again. That’s where I want my thinking to go.

Thank you to everyone who participated in our writing retreat! You made it the special day it was. And yes, there will be another so stay tuned! See the list of presenters below!

The Writers! All Photos Courtesy of Jenni Hulburt.

Joanne Jamis Cain

Cori Wamsley

Karen Captline

Sue Fattibene

Flowers and Flowers Retreat- Jenni Hulburt

All Things Bright and Beautiful

We are at the start of spring- a wondrous time to celebrate new life. I know that I always welcome this time of year with open arms, especially after a long winter.

Having returned from Florida a week ago, I was relieved to see green grass, daffodils, and our blossoming peach trees. The sight of it warmed me and I was thankful for these blessings.

I had two weeks in sunny Siesta Key and though I’ve been there, done that for almost ten years, there was a difference this year. This is the first time I’d been away absent the role of caregiver.

The first week went by quickly. I languished by the pool, soaked up the sun, went shopping, and ate well. The second week was different. It was slow, rich with time, and well, restful. I drank it up in meaningful gulps, relishing precious time without pressure to get things done.

I read an entire novel. I made Greek green beans. Going through my favorite consignment store in Sarasota, I found a dress. Shells made their way into my take home pouch. I greeted the rising sun and prayed to the setting one.

I have finally reached a point that I have to tell myself- it is ok to relax. I’ve earned it, I say, though this is always a selfish thought. I have cared for others for forty years and it’s time to give thanks. I’ve done things to the best of my ability and with that, I am ready to move on.

I’m grateful to God for all my blessings. My family and friends embrace me with love and fill my heart with joy. I will travel again this month, to North and South Carolina. I’m looking forward to that.

Happy Easter to my Christian friends, Happy Palm Sunday to my Orthodox Friends, and Chag Pesach Samech friends celebrating Passover.

The World According to Kay

Many of you know that my mom’s name was Katherine (hence this blog name, Katherine’s Daughter), and that she passed last January 2022. Lots of things have been going through my mind about her. Times spent together, her last couple of years, and the pearls of wisdom she bestowed upon me and many others. I want to share some of the latter.

There were those aesthetic things. She’d never wear pumps without hose (even knee highs were better than nothing). Her clothes were always pressed, and she loved a bit of perfume on herself. Mom didn’t have many outfits but the ones she had were always nice.

Mom and a very young Penny, at church.

She never wanted to wear old, frumpy types of shoes or boots. In my teens, I remember she had a very stylish type of black boot, with fur around the ankle. They had a kitten heel and I don’t know how she even walked in them in the snow. As she aged, she loved a simple pair of white Keds for shopping, and a pair of black, black patent Clarks loafers for dressy occasions.

Mom went to Vegas a couple of times with my dad (on business) and I still have a pair of clip on, bling hoops that she came back with. She wore them many times to dances and even though they’re not my style, I love having them in my jewelry box. As she aged, she preferred simple jewelry- a pair of pearl earrings, her gold cross on Sundays, and the seasonal pins I loved to buy for her.

As for the pearls of wisdom, mom had many. She believed that if you made a wrong turn, you were meant to go that way and you should just keep going. Also, if you waited long enough, most problems would be solved, usually by God.

She had an unwavering faith and loved everything about our church. The people, the music, the Greek Orthodox Liturgy. She knew the hymns inside out and though she couldn’t hear a word the priest was saying for the last years of her life, we always sat under the choir loft where she could sing quietly to herself.

Special hymns at certain times of the years would bring back memories. Sometimes she’d cry over them because they reminded her of her childhood. It was very touching.

For baking and cooking, mom never used margarine, always Land O Lakes butter. And always Mazola oil or Wesson, not extra virgin olive oil (that I use and love). She touted fresh ingredients and almost always cooked from scratch every night. Growing up, we never ate a TV dinner or a pot pie. She loved to cook and went through a period when she stopped at the grocery store every day, just so she could prepare whatever she was hungry for.

In baking, she bought fresh staples whenever she’d make Greek cookies. Baking soda, baking powder especially, because she knew from experience that older boxes of these things could really turn a recipe wonky.

I think most of all, mom taught me to be a class act. This meant modesty in clothing and jewelry. It was presenting myself with poise and self respect. Standing up straight and having a smile on my face. Being kind and helpful. It meant never letting myself publicly engage in swearing, mean behavior, or acts unbecoming to a lady.

More and more, I realize I was really blessed and lucky to have had her for all the years that I did. Thank you Mom.

Ode to a Beloved Pet- Miss Jordan

It’s January. Christmas has come and gone, and the New Year has begun. It is almost the one year anniversary of the passing of my mom (January 10). Our beloved senior dog, Miss Jordan, passed on December 15th. The void in my life is palpable. Yet I feel a peace, a relief that I haven’t felt in a long time.

When you devote yourself as a caregiver, whether it be to a parent, child, animal, or other, it takes its toll. For parents who have a special needs child, I cannot imagine the lifelong commitment. I assisted my mother for a solid decade and it completely wore me out. Without my spouse and sisters, it would have been unimaginable.

And then there’s Miss Jordan. She was with us for sixteen years. Anyone who has cared for a senior dog will tell you that it’s no picnic. But yet, we care deeply out of love and do everything we can to make them comfortable.

I think she was barely a few months old when my daughter spotted Jordan, tail wagging and looking like she was ready for a new family. Michelene knocked on the door of her birth house, asked if Jordan was available for adoption, and brought her home that day (no charge, by the way).

We had a older border collie mix named Lucky who was not happy when Jordan came. Jordan playfully irritated Lucky to no end, and Lucky would respond with barking until he was hoarse. But Jordan motivated Lucky and I swear he lived a bit longer with her energy.

Jordan defied injury and death a couple of times. She had a habit of chasing deer through our neighboring woods and once I drove around to find her, narrowing catching her before she stepped onto a busy main road. She gave us numerous other causes for alarm, always coming out like a cat with nine lives.

We raised chickens for many years, and early in her puphood we heard cackling in the coop very late one night. Jim took Jordan down and opened the door, only to find a raccoon had infiltrated and was wreaking havoc. Jordan quickly snatched the raccoon behind the ears and in one fell crunch, the offending animal was silenced.

After that, Jordan became fiercely protective of the chickens. She sat outside with them in the evenings when they languished in the yard, feasting on bugs and sometimes, my flowers, roaming freely under her protection. Her reward was a fresh egg, which she gently cracked open, licked from inside out, and devoured completely.

Towards the end of her life, Jordan still walked our field several times a day, her steps a memory from when my grandson Gavin was young. As a child, he drove his Jeep Power Wheels around the parameters every morning and several times a day, Jordan following closely behind. Sticking her nose deeply into the grass, she would sniff out the deer and other varmints that had likely passed through during the night. Even at Jordan’s old age, she still attempted to chase anything that came into her yard because after all, it was HER yard.

Thank you Jordan for your years of devotion. For sharing your joy and patience and inspiring me to sit outside and revel in nature. You were an amazing welcoming committee for every house guest. We love you and will remember you eternally.

Jordan the Wonder Dog
Jordan with Sebastian and Molly (Michelene’s dogs)
My favorite picture of Jordan, captured summer of 2022
Jordan was ready to go anywhere, at any time!

Living In The Moment

(It’s the 11th year of my blog and I’m going to be sharing some of my earliest writings with you. Here’s one of the first I ever published.)

This is easier said than done isn’t it? With the holidays just around the corner, I can really start to feel overwhelmed by the excitement, preparation and….. the worry.

I am a very good worrier. I seem to have been bred for it as my mom and my grandmother were expert worriers. Even when things were going well, they still worried. What if something awful would happen? Let us imagine the worst case scenario and plan for it. Let’s imagine 20 plans of action to the unimaginable and then maybe perhaps we will be prepared.

Somehow one day, I felt my cloak of worry and noticed how heavy it had become. It is just not worth it, I decided, to keep that heavy coat on all the time. I began to peel it off. First, it fell a bit back from my shoulders. Then I took one arm completely out. (whew! even that felt better). Slowly, over time, I took the other arm out and THUD. The coat fell to the ground.

I realize now that I do have the ability to handle anything that life may challenge me with. I am up to the task. And I have people in my life that love me and are willing to stand by or assist should I need it. Why not take advantage of those things?

Living in the moment is how I deal with any attempts of my own to retreat back into my cloak of worry. Living in the moment frees up mental space and allows me to enjoy who I am spending time with and what I have chosen to do at this moment.

English: Trees in the snow
Enjoy the moment!

It’s nice to share. Thank you.

Saying Good Bye to Mom

Dear Friends,

As most of you know, my mom passed away in January at the age of 92. It had been a long couple of months as we bravely tried to manage her decline. It was hard, bittersweet, and amazing. I have never been through anything like it in my life.

I’ve just returned home from Siesta Key, Florida, a place where my sisters and I began, seven years ago, to bring mom. We would rent a beautiful condo together and visit with my mom’s brother, his wife, and numerous others that she grew up with in her hometown of Stockdale, PA. Initially we stayed for one week, but it soon became evident that staying two weeks was the only way to go.

It is simply paradise there. There are palm trees, magnificent sunrises and sunsets, white sand, emerald green water. There are glimpses of dolphin fins once in a while and the lifeguard stands are brightly colored. People are kind and nice. Strangers say hello, ask questions, or just say good morning. It is a place for rest and rejuvenation.

Such is necessary after the long, two year pandemic, the quarantine, the worry that my mother brought me on almost a daily basis, and the reckoning of her passing. Her health began to fail slowly about six months ago. She wasn’t recovering as fast from set backs and though my sisters and I managed her health issues as the able bodied taskmasters that we are, my mother’s body was not compliant, not having it, and at times, downright defiant.

My mother had a desire to live, claimed she was not afraid of death, but in the end she succumbed to the failings of her body. We do not get to decide when we want to live or die, and this lesson became very apparent to me. I desperately tried to live in reality as I was watching her body slowly wind down, searching for signs that it really wasn’t going to happen, that it would all reverse, and she would regain another second wind.

The year before my mother’s passing was an educational one. My sisters and I investigated every possible scenario that we could, the goal being to keep my mother in her home. Hospice was a blessing. My mother repeatedly told us that as long as she knew who she was and where she was, she wanted to be at home. Respecting these wishes became our mantra and we did everything we could to make this possible.

There was a series of events that led up to my mom finally being admitted to hospice, and by admitted I mean she was allowed to stay in her home. Many doors opened at this point. It was about a month before her passing and I painstakingly listened to what the aides and nurses were telling me.

Your mother could be bed bound in two weeks. Practice tough love and get her a hospital bed.

Make your mother comfortable and give her the medications that have been provided for her.

No one wants to admit they are losing a parent. Watching those frightening moments of struggle, pain, and suffering, are not for the faint hearted. At any time we could have taken my mother to a hospital or in patient hospice, but we knew that was not what she wanted. We toughed it out.

Friends and relatives came to visit. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for them to witness my mom in her delicate state. Some felt more comfortable than others and I understood that. My sisters and I welcomed everyone who came. A few days before mom passed, her hometown family drove the hour and a half to see her. My sisters and I set the dining room table with the best linen, china, glasses, and silverware, the way our mother would have done for them. We prepared a simple lunch but it felt like a feast. Mom slept through the whole thing, but rallied near the end of their visit and knew they were there. It was a spiritual experience to watch her.

In the last few days of her life, my sisters and I hunkered down at mom’s. It was very bonding- we ate together, slept in shifts, greeted the hospice workers, and managed mom’s care as best we could. We walked her final journey, her last time on earth, with her. My sisters and I are all educated, over achievers, yet this was an experience that challenged us.

All of my worries over the past decade vanished at her passing. I’ve come to realize how much I had already grieved her loss in the last two years. When I would leave her, I’d picture the worst case scenarios- her falling and hurting herself, breaking a hip, being on the floor, struggling to get herself up any way she could. In those moments, I’d flip the picture and pray to God that she would have the peaceful passing she deserved and I wanted for her.

It happened. The traumatic incident that I prayed would not happen, never came. Instead, a gradual transition, a straddling of both this and another world, came into focus. Then slowly, the quiet slipping away to her departed family, where I’m sure they were waiting for her.

Mom’s 90th Celebration in Siesta Key.

I want to thank many of my friends and family who loved and cared about my mom. Her funeral was beautiful and I’m so glad that many cousins made the day a priority. Now comes the time when we rest, recover, and remember all of the wonderful memories, the wisdom, and the beauty that was Katherine.

Love, Joanne

Jim and I Celebrate 40 Years of Marriage

I remember the day like it was yesterday. It was May 10, 1980 and I was at the VIP in Baden. Having just arrived, I turned down an offer to dance with my girlfriends and instead decided to sit down for a few minutes. I was wearing light green Calvin Klein jeans and a silky top.

In those days, I was selling cars at my dad’s Nissan dealership. I drove a 280Z to the VIP that night. But I’d worked all day and I’m sure I was just relaxing until the desire to dance kicked in.

A Nissan 280Z. Wow, what a car. Source.

At this same moment, my future husband saw me from across the room, sitting by myself at an otherwise empty table full of drink glasses. He later said, “I could have heard a pin drop.”

He came to the table and asked if we could talk. I told him to “keep walking.” I watched him circle the big room and come back to me again. This time, my Greek instinct for hospitality kicked in and I told him to sit down.

We spent the whole evening together. He wasn’t a dancer but we talked and played pin ball together (I love pin ball). He said he’d walk me to my car and on the way out, he picked up his fedora to go with the minty green leisure suit he was wearing.

As I arrived at my car, he asked if I’d like to do something fun. I said ok and gave him my work phone number. He called me every day for a month and I consistently gave him excuses why I couldn’t go out.

Finally he told me he was going to stop calling me if we didn’t get together. I agreed and we had a fabulous time. We went to Kennywood and a nice Italian restaurant called Pompeo’s. Six months later we were engaged. One year later, to the day, we were married.

Our rehearsal dinner was at my parent’s house, complete with a roast lamb on a spit. My mom and my aunts went over the top with all their Greek specialties- pastichio, stuffed grape leaves, and homemade pastries. My dad manned the bar with shots of ouzo for all.

The day we were married, May 10, 1981, was a Sunday and it was Mother’s Day. I remember my Greek Orthodox priest, Father Kiramarios, saying it was a day to honor all women. We had a big Greek wedding with lots of friends, a big cake from Keystone Bakery, and a three piece bouzouki band. The Barlamas family catered and everyone had a huge baked chicken dinner. My godparents and their family came from Charleston, SC. It was a day to remember.

Photography by Dan McConnell. Loved that beautiful cake by Keystone Bakery!

Six months later I was pregnant with my daughter, Michelene, and four years later my son John was born. Now we have two beautiful grandchildren, Gavin and Penelope Katherine.

The marriage ceremony in the Greek Orthodox church is especially beautiful. To Jim and I, marriage is sacred- a vow between two people, in front of God, to love and cherish each other. It is not to be taken lightly. In my career choice as a wedding planner, I always try to keep this in mind when I am helping my couples.

To have been married on Mother’s Day is a great blessing. When the time comes around each year, it is as though I am doubly blessed to have both so close together. My feeling about marriage is this- love one another, work things out, don’t give up, and seek help when you need it, whether from clergy or otherwise. Keep God in your life so you have a heavenly perspective on things.

Please bless us with your prayers for many more years together.

Love,

Joanne

On Embracing a Less Hectic Life

Plenty of time for grandchildren lately.

Hello and happy fall 2020.

How are you? I hope you are well and staying safe. This is how many of my emails and text messages started out during the past several months. Sometimes I can’t believe what we are living through. Going into a store and seeing everyone in masks (generally) is now routine. Politics aside, I’m grateful that many in my area make this choice. Thank you to those that do.

Back in early spring, it became clear that the virus was around to stay. Several of my weddings rescheduled and initially I was worried, but then I wasn’t. As a person who has a hard time committing to a lighter schedule, it was a blessing of sorts to be forced into a quarantine bubble. It felt a little funny, but really, it felt like a relief.

No more pushing myself to do another thing, make another meeting, or meet a new social contact. I could stay in my pajamas until noon (without guilt!), drink endless coffee or tea, and unselfishly nap in the afternoon. I binge watched The Crown and Virgin River, and re-watched old movies. When I finally grew bored, I painted my kitchen and dining room. I reveled in hanging new decor, donating bags of stuff I didn’t want anymore, and rearranging my closets.

Summer brought the garden, lush with zucchini, peppers, and tomatoes. I bought zinnias early and put them into pots, later transplanting them into the ground when it was safe. I stood up to the weeds, then gradually gave into them as the summer grew hotter. We watched as new retaining walls went up in our front driveway, long overdue. Friends (and strangers) wanted our raw honey and we were happy to oblige. My sister in law’s little backyard pool became a haven.

What frame of mind have I embraced during this time? It is ok to slow down. I can indulge myself and my family with any amount of time I want. I don’t have to do everything that comes my way- I can choose to say no. Money is just money. There are other things more important. These are the inspirational gifts I feel I’ve been given during this time.

I downloaded a book- Jim Lahey’s My Bread. It so inspired me that I ordered a five quart cast iron Dutch oven to bake rustic bread loaves. The recipe is easy and the bread is amazing. I baked bread a few years ago but abandoned it due to my own busy schedule. Now I have the time, and I love it. You can’t get anything simpler or more joyful than baking bread.

What have you discovered about yourself during this pandemic? What changes have you made? What do you think you’ll hold onto after it’s all over?

I’ve learned that I can slow down and not feel guilty about it. It is my hope that after this time is all over (and it will be over eventually), I can continue to prioritize myself and my family. Committing to a less hectic schedule is something I’m set on accomplishing.

Be well. Stay safe.

What I Can Be Grateful For Right Now

RawPixel

I have to say, this quarantine is quite the challenge. I’ve been fairly sequestered since March 14 and as the days wear on, staying positive feels like a daily chore.

Since I have spent the last seven years caring for my mom, my life was relatively simple. I had pared back my schedule, no longer working full time, but in the process started a part time business that has been my salvation.

But for wedding coordinators and other event personnel these are trying times. I’m working on a few ideas but business has come to an almost screeching halt. My husband is working from home and honestly, I’m relieved to have him here. From a standpoint of family safety, and for the income it provides, there is much to be thankful for.

What is getting me through? Well, besides coffee and chocolate, it’s Gratitude. Yes, that meaningful little word has become a daily touchstone for me.

In expressing what I’m grateful for, I’ll tell you what I did this morning. I awoke at 6:15 am, started the coffee pot, and walked outside to fill my bird feeders. I wiped the rain drops from my outdoor bench. By the time I walked back in the house, the coffee was just about ready.

I took a cup, a pillow, and went back outside. As I sat on the bench with my warm cup of coffee, I relaxed and listened. The birds were a musical cornucopia. There was so much singing among them, joyous sounds of morning bliss, that I couldn’t help but feel grateful for their chorus.

Aaron Doucett

All day long, on and off, I check on my bird friends to see how they’re doing. I watch them intermingle with the squirrels. I wait for a new sparrow to choose my birdhouse for their next nest. The blackbirds position themselves on the rod where my feeders hang from, perching themselves to have access to the sunflower seeds. They all provide me with a daily reminder to be happy.

Along with the birds, I am in awe of what is blooming in my own backyard. This week I snipped branches of purple lilacs and made a vase full for both me and my mom. Their fragrance fills my kitchen. My peonies are budding, my roses are filled with fresh growth, and my azaleas are on the cusp. Every day I walk outside and look around, waiting for another flower to blossom.

I recently bought zinnias, dahlias, and a few herbs but here in Pennsylvania, it’s a bit too early to put them into the ground. So I have them in pots, outside during the day, and brought in for cooler overnight temperatures. I can wait. They are thriving and it won’t be long until it’s time to plant them in the ground.

One of my orchids has birthed six fresh blooms, with at least three more buds to go. To say they are beautiful is an understatement.

Not my orchids, but these are exactly what I have! Kelly Sikkema

If I just look around, I can find these simple reminders of beauty. This situation will not last forever. It takes a bit of emotional work to stay grounded. We have never had this type of global rest before and we may never have it again. Let’s cherish it.

Message in a Chocolate

Within the confines of my current life situation, I am finding that little things have plenty of meaning. Where previously I might never have paid attention, for instance, to my peeling porch swing, I now find myself unable to take my eyes away from the paint job it so desperately needs.

I haven’t had time for that porch swing for ages. When we renovated the outside of our home years ago, I painted it bright red. It was a nice contrast to the white siding, blue trim, and blue shutters on the house. Seemed like a good idea at the time. The trim around my house is still blue, but that porch swing has really faded. Right now it’s in the basement, being primed for a fresh coat of paint.

I have always paid attention to certain things in my house, such as my plants, including my gardenia, cleanliness, organization, and good meals. Staying on top of things is important to me, even if I over do this to a certain extent. But lately, with more free time on my hands, and the world a little scarier, I find myself a bit more grateful, and well, humble.

I always read the messages inside of my favorite chocolates, but rarely did I keep them. Lately, I find myself not only reading them, but saving them. Those little pieces of silver foil are all over my house. Their tiny messages are my little inspirations of hope. Yes, I’ve certainly read them before but lately, why are they so poignant?

This one says, “Book the flight.” Well, how can I? The pandemic has shut just about everything down, including flights. We have no idea when we are going to be able to be on vacation again. Thankfully I didn’t have any big plans. Still, I keep this one because optimistically I think, we will book flights again someday.

“Live your life every day with no regrets. It’ll be worth it.” Now, this makes sense. I’m not doing much of anything so there’s less to regret. I’m happy with a warm cup of coffee, my slippers, and a good piece of chocolate.

“Keep life moving forward, looking backward is only for time travelers.” Another bit of sensible advice. Although memories, right now, can be comforting. I’m thinking about going through a box of old pictures some evening. (I’ve been meaning to do that for awhile now)

This last one, “Hands are meant to be held”, can probably make me cry if I think too much about it. I haven’t hugged my adult children in almost four weeks. I have been lightly hugging my mother but no kissing on the cheek as we always did. The first week or two of quarantine, I barely embraced my husband, likely out of some paralysis over the whole virus scare. Finally, I said to him one day, “I need a hug.” We squeezed each other and I’m hugging him more often.

This situation, this pandemic, has caused so much change in our lives. To avoid holding hands, hugging, and embracing one other is hard. I can’t wait to get back to physical contact. Until then, I’ll keep reading (and saving) those messages in my chocolates.

Opening photo credit- Christiann Koepke.

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