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Channel: Hope – Bridgette Tales
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Something is happening here

All the windows were rolled down and the sunroof open. My hair whipped about my face and I was smiling. Really smiling. The kids and I had a fantastic morning highlighted by a delicious breakfast, lots...

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Fighting against the clichés of life

For sure I was going to work with animals. My days would be surrounded with puppies, kittens and horses. I would heal them, train them and love them all. People would be astounded by my abilities and...

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The light and the dark of my friend

It can happen in just a second. We are chatting happily about nothing in particular and the light suddenly shifts. Something I said either sparked a memory or struck an exposed wound that I didn’t see,...

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Sorry nobody clapped for you, people suck

It is pretty much always the same. Lines of kids in caps and gowns, flowers, balloons, crying moms and fussy babies, speeches about the meaning of life, scattered bursts of applause and snapping...

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A journey with my son

He won’t look at me anymore. I twist my head all around trying to find some angle to reach him, but he is allusive and quick. I don’t know when I lost him, but I feel the separation as sharp and...

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The blanket

This was written for a dear friend who is looking for some way to reach her sister in the darkness. May it touch you as well.  I stand still and try to disappear into the darkness around me. The cold...

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Can we talk?

Her bouncy blonde curls hang wildly down to a soft, mustard-colored sweatshirt. She is smiling, and her blue-green eyes, the light of her face, squint ever so slightly. We lean close, trying hard to...

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This is why I’m marching on Saturday

Another school shooting. I see the headline for a moment, then set my phone on the counter and wash the dishes in the sink. I fold a load of laundry and vacuum the carpet. I drink another cup of...

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A Moment at the Playground

On a recent visit to the mall with my young nephew, I witnessed an interaction I can't stop thinking about.

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Poetry: Daffodil

sleepy round bulbs wakeas straight green arrowstipped in bright yellowaimed at the sky you ask me questionsteary-eyed, red-cheekedas sunlight paints stripesacross our bare feet without answers, I...

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poetry: snow cave

A poem of winter.

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