Learning a New Dance

At five years old, I knew exactly what I wanted.  “Mommy, I want to be a ballerina when I grow up.” Tutus and tiaras, music and applause, glitter and make up…what girl could want anything more? “Okay, sweetie,” my mom responded kindly, as she did to so many of my childhood dreams. 

Confessions of a Mortician’s Daughter

My father was the local mortician in our small town, so conversation in our home daily centered on the matter of life and death. The fear of dying consumed me. Sometimes I imagined myself lying in a casket in my father’s funeral home.