There was a change in the weather when he called.   

The hairs on my arm stood up. Only my brother called me Donni, instead of Donna.

    The gull cried out as it swooped down in front of the child. She jumped back on the hard wet sand, tripped and landed on her bottom without taking her eyes from the bird.

It was easier before time dictated the where and the why of her day.

I woke thinking about your question, what is happiness to me?

Twenty-four hours after our mother died we were arguing about the order of the service, me wanting to pull rank and speak first, when the envelope was delivered.

I have turned off the main road and am standing on a mountain pass in the Beartooth Mountains in eastern Montana, at a spot that is almost 11, 000 feet high, called The Top of the World. The vista is breathtaking. I have flown to Montana, out of necessity, out of need.