Anger to Understanding

“I can’t believe they did that.” I often say, when someone irritates me.

Instead, lately I’ve started saying, “I don’t understand why they did that.” Every time I do, the angry shadows go away and my heart swells with light.
by Anne Carlson

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Blue Moon

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My grandmother and some of my aunts would have their hair done weekly.  Always the same poofy purple on my grandmother and blue on my aunts.’  I promised myself when I got old I would never have colored hair.

I looked in the mirror today, and by golly my hair is blue.  Yikes.  That would make me a rebel of my own rule.

Anne Carlson


The Lost Mees

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Writing Fallen Warrior is like mounting a bucking bronco.  Something within me does everything it can to keep me out of  “that place” where the story rises from.  Painful, because I’m writing as that lost childhood me.  So what’s the problem, I’m a grown-up now?

I made a promise that when I grew up, I would go back and find the other lost ones that were like me.

Anne Carlson


9/11 in 2017

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Flying in honor at half mast in front of the hospital today.


“I just can’t look at this date and not remember.”  I said to my neuro-therapist.

“I’m actually from New York,” he said,  “and I lost a lot of friends that day that were firefighters.”

and there was that moment.

Anne Carlson



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