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¿Til Death do us Part

A few months ago, I entered into an online writing competition sponsored by a group call NYC Midnight (https://www.nycmidnight.com). The challenge was to write 1,000 word short story in 48 hours. Guidelines given were that the genre of the story should be "Romance", the setting for the story "A cottage") and at some point in the story a "Whisk" should appear. I didn't win anything, but got some good feedback, both positive and constructive.   ‘Til Death do us Part   There is so much more to love than simple romance. John and Stuart show us what a lifetime of commitment means to true love. I returned from my walk at around three in the afternoon. The sun cut through the trees to give the cottage a surreal glow. The sound of Puccini’s “Nessun Dorma” wafted through the windows and out into the surrounding forest. It was John’s favorite piece, and I was glad that I had bought it for him on one of our first Valentines Days together. These days, I w
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MEMORY (upper and lower case)

I travel a lot.   I have for most of my adult life.   Home (childhood home) has become mixed into a multitude of places where I have lived long enough to put down roots of some kind.   Home (childhood home) has become a place that I visit every couple of years to spend some time with family.   Family, with the passing of my parents and oldest sister, has shrank (if it is “shrunk” then Mr. Googles steered me wrong) to one younger and two older sisters, along with a healthy smattering of nieces and nephews, in-laws and cousins once or twice removed.   Many live in or near where we/they grew up.   My son, born and raised in Nicaragua, emigrated to the U.S. a few years back, and now lives a distance away, but close enough that I can combine visits. Growing up with four sisters was, at times, challenging.   Don’t ask them, because they will say that I lived like the king of the castle while they toiled and troubled over household chores and picking up after their pain-in-th
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THE HATFIELDS AND THE MCCOYS I was getting ready for a trip to a project region in the south central Department of Olancho in Honduras, but there was some doubt whether conditions in the zone would allow for a safe journey back along the country roads leading to the isolated communities that were participating in the project.  There was talk of increased violence in the region; not that violence was something unheard of in these rural, frontier environments, but over the last year the level of reported deaths in the department (not by automobile accidents or natural causes) had risen to a point where additional safety considerations and analysis were needed.  The news coming out of the area consisted of a too-often vague and mixed up tale of gang rivalries, drug trafficking wars and/or family feuds.  It all seemed just too jumbled up to make sense.  But, by talking to staff of our local partner organization, I was finally able to piece together at least part of the story:
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