Traverse City

The truth is I need a new address book. The one I’m using is full of people who aren’t even in my life anymore.

I am 19 years old again and have left my boyfriend back at home. He hasn’t written for a week and I’m sure the relationship is over. Sure my life is over. Frank Sinatra understands.

Charlie Chaplin impersonator Harold Kranick performs for a special spectator.

I was in awe of bus drivers, navigating those big awkward machines up and down those narrow slippery roads. Not to mention the noise factor behind them in the seats.

When the holidays come around, Norte “elves” hit the streets helping to recycle live trees.

In mid-August, my husband and I spent a couple days with my brother and his wife in Tawas City on Lake Huron. Driving east across Michigan was like going back in time—arriving in a town that looked like Traverse City fifty years ago.

Years ago, I joined a women’s discussion group and began to get acquainted with the other members. Although I know it’s wrong to judge people, I have to admit I found one of the women annoying.

The ancient Christmas Cactus on my table almost went in the compost a few months ago. Shriveled and gray, it looked unhealthy and unhappy and no wonder. There were little teeth marks at the end of each branch from encounters with the cat.

I am standing in line at the post office, counting the people in front of me, feeling impatient and annoyed... I’m not in a hurry. I’m just feeling lonely and lost and it’s not about the post office.

While packing for a trip I grabbed my hair dryer and hair curler, as always, and then paused... Maybe I could just leave them at home? A terrifying thought, to be sure.