I got another life lesson while running the other day. Hills. They can either kill your morale, or light a fire under you. I might not be the fastest or strongest runner, but I don't often let a hill get the best of me. Yet I've felt myself slowing down in other ways lately. There are so many obstacles in my path. Haven't I worked and sweat enough? I've become accustomed to the comfortable pace of 2 steady piano jobs (which I'm  more  than grateful for), but my original goal when moving here, was to song write and record. A process which is proving to be more time consuming and complicated than I would have ever imagined. Just when I think I see the finish line, another hill arises in my path.  That's when I'm reminded of the old saying (and excuse the cliche) it's not the destination, but the journey that's important. And so with each step, I admire the view around me and appreciate more than ever those miles stones that I pass along the way.  Ch...

I opened the glass door of the retail store and walked inside, eyes immediately drawn to the mannequins donning outfits I could never pull off. Yet I couldn't keep my fingers from running over the fabrics displayed on racks that were laid out, row after row around me. Months of penny pinching and shopping-deprivation made me like a hungry child in a bakery. My arms were full of clothes in mere moments. A sales clerk politely offered her assistance and asked my name.  "Elizabeth," I told her. "I'm Willie," She replied with a slight southern accent, cheerfully as if we were about to become best friends. She was an older black woman who I noticed was just as attentive to all the customers in her section. Animated and friendly, Willie drew my complete attention as she continued, "Elizabeth, I can remember that. That's my sister's middle name. Her first name is Mary," she explained. Before I could help it, I told her that my first name was actu...

"Go on with your normal day." That's what we were told to do on this 10th anniversary of 9/11.  So I went for a run, practiced the piano, and cleaned the kitchen. I went to the grocery store, took a nap, and did laundry.  I walked to and from the laundry room, white basket balanced on my hip, held steady with my right arm. And with every airplane that flew overhead, I couldn't help but look up. I did my best to suppress the paranoia that no doubt crept over the majority of New Jersey and New York. Neck craned and imagination running wild, I followed the jet soaring above that was no larger than a dot in the sky. It glided from one horizon to the other, momentarily being eclipsed by a tree branch that arched overhead. It was then I noticed a birds nest I'd never before seen, tucked firmly within the sturdy limbs of the mighty tree. I wondered what birds had hatched and lived within the woven walls of twigs and leaves. "They're safe up there," I thoug...