“Sherry fell in love with the right man too young and let him slip away, but she never looked back.
She always made enough money to go where she wanted on her own terms. She’d partied with rock stars. A celebrated novelist had written a roman à clef about her. Once an ill-advised choice left her married to a surgeon, but she never spoke of those days. She’d certainly been to paradise and had even been to ME, if by ME one meant Kennebunkport, Maine.
Now she was a little weary of her life. Sometimes all she really wanted was to meet a weathered Texas man with white hair that curled a little over his collar. She wasn’t looking for a rancher or an oilman, just a gentleman to accompany her into her twilight years.”
I take photos. I write. My volunteer job is taking photos of rescued dogs and cats transported by the rescue group whose records I manage. Since working and volunteering don’t leave me a lot of time to write, I’m spending 2017 borrowing from what these dogs and cats are writing. They said it’s okay.