Kathleen Kjolhaug

It was officially a date. The invitation came out of nowhere and went something like this. “Honey, guess what? My pick up is ready to be picked up.

It was officially a date. The invitation came out of nowhere and went something like this. “Honey, guess what? My pick up is ready to be picked up. Can we

The Sunday School teacher was about to make a point. The idea came that it might be high time to teach a little lesson about little words to the little children.

I called a friend today. Her voice enveloped me like rays of sunshine piercing the soul. The words she spoke offered wisdom needed. Each one spoken filled parched portions deep within.

You know what they say, “You teach that which you most need to learn.” I must need to learn anew – because I thought this topic worthy of sharing once again.

The recipe within the magazine spoke. If the pic didn't do the job, the words certainly embellished it to taste. The muffin looked like one that grandma would have baked.

The little purple flowers upon the stamp, upon the envelope, was telltale that something good was within. Little purple flowers noted upon my pathways always seem to refresh.

At first, fist clasping the wings came quickly as the little boy bent down to grab that which was within reach.

The bright pink billboard along the Hwy. loomed large. Unable to comprehend its message at first glance, I did a double take. With no apologies for what was on display, the message was bold and abrupt—all modesty removed.

It all began about a year ago, and was short lived – or so I thought. The bright pink billboard along the highway loomed large.