Angel wrote in your journal: If the popping appearance of cherry blossoms into flower were music, you would wake up one day and hear...

Something has opened in me and I’m now ready, willing, and able to receive writing and music back into my life. It’s been too long since...

My father was my rock. As a little girl, I loved the feel of my tiny hand being held by his big, strong, always warm grip. And when I sat...