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I Cried Today

  I cried on the way to work today. I cried for my daughters, gay and straight, for my granddaughter and my nieces. I cried for all the beautiful LGBTQ people I know, who are terrified of losing everything. I cried for myself and for every woman who has ever been sexually harassed, abused, demeaned, raped or made to feel that she’s somehow less because of her gender.

  I cried today for all the people who came here, to America, looking for a better life for themselves and their children. For the people of all races, colors, genders, and religions who have fought and struggled for basic human rights.

  I cried for the people who believe that the man they elected cares about them, because if you don’t look like him, if you are not a rich, white, middle-aged male, he really doesn’t.

  I cried because yesterday America decided that none of that matters.

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Amanda

I wrote this when I was a young mom, shortly after my first baby was born and I was overwhelmed by the love I had (and still have) for her.

Watching her sleep, so helpless and small

The greatest gift from God20160905_121527

The most beautiful miracle of all

Tiny and wonderful, full of love to give

She smiles in her sleep, having angel dreams

I reach down and touch her cheek

Stroking her soft pink skin

Looking into sparkling, wide eyes,

Laughing over a tiny upturned nose,

She has brought joy and love to an empty life.

Saturday in August

On a lazy afternoon

Sun bright overhead

She lies, relaxed

In a hammock in the yard.

A book, unread,

Is open on her chest and

A breeze plays gently with her hair.

On a table nearby

Her drink warms as the ice quickly melts.

Beneath her,

close by as always,

The dogs rest, panting in the shade.

While around her,

Surrounding her everywhere

the buzzing of the cicadas lulls her to sleep.

The House Becomes

A house is merely a building, a structure,

made of wood, and glass

stone, and plaster.

It gives shelter from the cold, safety from harm,

a place to rest your head.

But wait.

Now fill it.

Fill it with love, and warmth

and welcoming arms.

Fill it with joy and laughter

tears and sadness.

Fill it with happiness, and grief.

Life. And death.

Now look.

Now it is transformed.

It is no longer simply walls and windows and doors.

No longer only shelter, or safety.

Filled with these things it becomes

something beautiful,

something inviting, and comforting;

something wonderful.

Filled with love, filled with family,

the house becomes

Home.

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