“Just a little bit,” I said as I made myself a hot cup of Colombian Vanilla coffee one morning. “A little bit can’t possibly kill me.” A few minutes later, my heart was racing. The back of my neck became tight and
It was spring, and the ice on the river was just breaking up along the shore. The boy, about eleven years old, kept asking his father if he could go fishing as the salmon were expected to start their yearly run up
When I was a child, each summer I visited my mom's side of the family in Honduras, about two hours from Belize by ferry. Being a daddy’s girl, this made me sad because I would not be able to see him for
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