by Deb Farris | Jun 28, 2023 | Devotions
“Come lay down beside me.” She patted the blanket by her side where pillows surrounded her, creating a nest. I laid down in the nest. “Here, hold my hand,” she said about the hands that are so much like my sister’s. I placed my hand on top of her soft skin to hold her...
by Deb Farris | Jan 30, 2018 | Musings
You walked with me that day even though you had a blister covering the corner of your heel from our hike the day before. The Tucson sun beat down on the exposed skin of your neck and calves, turning them pink even though you took extra care with the sunscreen. But the...
by Deb Farris | Jan 23, 2018 | Musings
From kitchen window broom stands against garage door, askew. What lies beyond the door of this day—off center, all lopsided and cockeyed? I rinse my cup and listen to water rushing from the faucet through my fingers. Cup shines. What can bear a stain? Day unfolds in...
