Children are the most affected by war. In a war-torn zone, the trauma children undergo will live with them until the day they die. The trauma induced is deep-rooted and healing from the effects of war is never easy or most often than not, out of the question. Ultimately, the consequences of war related trauma will require precautionary measures as cure is never attainable. Children who has survived the worst of wars will need special attention and aid. Imagine hearing the bomb sirens or gunshots or worse, watch a building crumble right before your eyes. Imagine watching people killed or dying, or writhing in pain from wounds. The pain of the whole situation will numb a young mind to silence. I don't think these children will ever be able to interact amicably with another human after witnessing the horrors of war. How do we treat children who has seen the worst of wars and suffered as a consequence? First, we must accept that children of war are mentally affected by the situation they are thrust into. The psychological effects are massive and often these children withdraw into their own shell due to the frightening situation. Their need to explain even to themselves the results of war can have dire consequences in their actions towards those they love. They become hateful and distrusting of the world around them. In order to help them overcome the difficult transition to lead a normal life as best as they can, the caregivers must be patient with their behavioral patterns. A psychiatrist treating the child will tell you how difficult it is to get them to speak about their trauma. Instead of coming out with their fears, they often hide their feelings of insecurities and fright and try to avoid human connection. They will find it hard to interact with outsiders with the exception of their family members. Often, in the long run, the children blame their elders and family members for the trauma of war they face. They will want someone to blame themselves. Why the war? Effective treatments like trauma-focused cognitive behavioral therapies and narrative exposure therapy are available, however, family support will ultimately play a crucial role in helping children recover fully or to the extent that they can forget for a while. Children need love and a good environment to nurture their growth and look forward to a full life. It is an abhorrence to have them experience war and live to regret the chances they have missed to grow out their childhood and to understand the horrific way their lives have unfolded. At least for the love of a child, wars should end and peaceful negotiations given preference. No matter what it takes, choose peace against war. We wouldn't want to partake in ruining the lives of our children to gloat over the power of being victorious, now do we? Wars won are never a victory at the expense of even one child. The End. (This essay was first accepted for publication in the December'23 online issue by Welter@University of Baltimore. https://blogs.ubalt.edu/welter/digital-lit-current-issue)

They go by the names "chatbots," "digital assistants," and "virtual assistants" The more accurate VPA software produced by AI technology made them available! VPA devices can be seen to communicate like individuals using voice or text messaging, with witty retorts, and to be notable companions. There is no need for the kids to sit and stare at televisions for hours on end. Worse even are the antiquated radio systems that may no longer be enjoyable. What about multitasking when you browse the internet? Children enjoy taking their quizzes to them, and they may provide excellent useful feedback. The company of Alexa keeps kids from feeling isolated. Games provided by Alexa are both entertaining and educational for children and their parents. What a relief it is to have Alexa and Siri at home! Alexa knows all the answers! Does it? 🙄 One effect of relying too much on smart devices like Alexa, Siri, and Google Assistants may be poor social skills. Target children may lack good manners, particularly in courteous speech and answers. The less learning possibilities provided by the devices may interfere with children's growth.

A good friend of mine has a very warped and funny sense of humor. One of his favorite comments is: “Opinions are like a@@holes. Everyone has one.” Every time he says this, while I do agree with him, I also laugh with him. Keeping that in mind, here is one of my opinions. While many will agree with me, I also realize there will be just many who won't. As my friend says, you're entitled to yours. I don't often read magazines; I just don't take the time. I do, however, read books to relax, write stories, and dabble around with photography. Truthfully, I only read two magazines. One of them I do enjoy is The Week; I like this magazine because it contains a bit of news from every state, there is a science section, important national news and so much more. It is just about the most interesting magazines on the market. I probably should have written this article years ago, but at the time, I was angry and put the magazine away, as I kept thinking, “How dare he?” Then through the years, I'd forgotten about it. Now, looking back to that issue of March 27, 2015, one of their columns was about clothes designing company called Dolce & Gabbana. It was that article that angered me beyond words. One of the owners, Domenico Dolce was quoted during an interview as saying, “We oppose gay adoptions. The only family is the traditional one.” He went on to describe children born through IVF as “children of chemistry, synthetic children. Rented uterus, semen chosen from a catalogue.” Apparently, Mr. Dolce does not believe in adoption or in in-vitro fertilization. Actually, according to his statement, he doesn't even believe in gay marriages. It's a shame when you think about it. There are so many wonderful, intelligent, gay people who have made their mark on the world and became pillars of society. I have met and made friends with many people who are gay but rather than go into all of them, I prefer to tell you the response to Mr. Dolce's comment made by Elton John. Elton John has two children with his husband, David Furnish. Each child had a surrogate mother who conceived them by in-vitro fertilization. Mr. John's response was: “How dare you refer to my beautiful children as pathetic. Your archaic thinking an out of step with the times, just like your fashions. I shall never wear Dolce & Gabbana ever again.” Ironically these Italian designers who happened to make this atrocious comment are gay, but they consider themselves traditional believing that while they should and can live together, they should not marry nor have children. That's something I just don't understand. If you have a partner with whom you are in love, why shouldn't you get married? Why shouldn't you have children, whether it's by in-vitro or adoption. And let's for a moment jump off the Rainbow train. Whether gay or not, what happens to couples (men and women) who desperately want a child to increase their family but for whatever reason, can't conceive? You mean to say they shouldn't be allowed alternative methods of having children? Since that article, Mr. Dolce has apologized to the gay community. Yet, I can't help but wonder why? Did he apologize out of sincerity? Or did he apologize because his sales were in decline? Hmm. Makes you wonder. Sorry, even if I could afford the items Dolce & Gabbana sell, I surely would never purchase any of them. I'll stick to Walmart and Target!

It seems like only yesterday when my granddaughter, Stephanie was seven years old. At the time, my son and his family lived in New York making visits infrequent but enjoyable. Seeing them was always a treat. One day in 2005, almost became a disaster. My son, and his family arrived on a Saturday afternoon. While the house was in order and the bedrooms cleaned and ready for them, what I wasn't prepared for was Stephanie's loose tooth. My daughter-in-law wasn't too concerned thinking it would stay put for another two or three weeks, since it didn't seem loose enough to fall out. The plan was a week-long visit with me, then they would be heading to central Florida for a week with Joanne's mom, then back to New York. We did whatever could to make that week fun, interesting, and memorable. One day, we decided to make a trip to a local nature park where we would have the opportunity to see live animals: boars, cows, steer, birds, and alligators. We were all excited since we never had the good fortune to see these animals close enough to take a picture or two. We arrived at the park early and ate the picnic lunch we packed. Not long after we finished eating, it was time to turn in our admission tickets and board the sight-seeing bus for the tour. Anticipation grew. We were eager. But that turned out not to be the highlight of our week. We arrived home late in the afternoon and decided to make a cookout of burgers and hot dogs for dinner with a side dish of homemade macaroni salad. As my husband grilled the food, my daughter-in-law and I set the table. My son and his children were in the pool. Before I knew it, the day was done, and the kids were heading to bed. We four adults stayed up watching TV and taking about the shows we watched. We laughed and had a few great moments, then we headed to our respective bedrooms. Early the next morning, we were awakened by a loud scream. It was my granddaughter. Thinking the worse, all of us raced into her bedroom, expecting to see blood – or - or, we had no idea or what. What we saw was Stephanie standing by the bed, hysterically crying, hold something in one clenched fist. My daughter-in-law quickly wrapped her arms around her daughter and said, “Steph, what's wrong? Please tell me.” Steph pulled away slightly, unfolded her tightly closed fingers, and exposed a tooth! Her tooth! In between sobs, she said, “Mom, the tooth fairy won't know where I am. She'll never find me!” Joanne looked at me a rolled her eyes. That is what had my granddaughter so upset! We tried to console Steph, but it wasn't easy. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in my head, I had an idea. But it had to wait a day. The next day, thinking she'd never get her dollar from the tooth fairy, Steph tried to enjoy our trip to the wharf where we hoped to see dolphins in the harbor. We ate lunch at a local restaurant, walked around a seaside village and then headed home. It was obvious that Steph was trying hard not to spoil the vacation for her family but just as obvious that her heart was longer enjoying it. I pulled my daughter-in-law aside. “Let her stay up a bit later. You'll see why when she falls asleep.” Once Stephanie was asleep, I drove to the supermarket and bought a small bouquet of flowers. Arriving home, I wrote a note, “Dear Stephanie, I apologize that your reward for giving me another tooth was delayed. I went to your house only to find you weren't there. I went to your grandmother in central Florida. You weren't there either. Then, Bingo! Here you are in southwest Florida. I hope these flowers and your extra reward will put a smile on your beautiful face. Love, The Tooth Fairy.” My daughter-in-law laughed and said it was a great idea. My husband and son thought I was crazy. It was worth a shot. I tucked a $5.00 bill in an envelope (a bit larger than normal since the tooth fairy made Steph wait so long), put the flowers in a pretty blue vase, tied a ribbon around the vase, then leaned the envelope with her name printed on the front against the glass vessel with the flowers. Then I quietly exited the bedroom with my fingers crossed. The following morning, we heard, “MOM, MOM! Come look!” Again, we raced in the direction of her bedroom. She was holding her envelope and said, “The tooth fairy found me! She left me money and flowers! My tooth that I put under my pillow is gone! Mom, she found me! I don't know how she did it, but she found me.” My daughter-in-law looked at me and we shared a secret smile. My son and husband, looked at each other and I heard my son say, “Well, I'll be damned!” What might have been a sad week for my granddaughter's vacation, turned out to be a happy surprise and a moment to remember! Yes, what a moment and what a memory! Thanks to the tooth fairy and a supermarket that didn't close early.

Just 1 month until the release of, A Touch Eldritch, the first of an annual series, written for young teenagers. A collection of short stories to make you cringe, horror and spooky stories on the fringe. I am looking forward to hearing the feedback on this my first collection of short stories.

How does it feel? To birth children and let them suffer for bread? Their cross, at a tender age, made to bear. They struggle and strive To survive in all fear, Amidst tears, education, and etiquette they forgo, For money and survival, they endure. How does it feel? To see these little ones suffer hardship unknown? Heartbreaks and traumas, they face untold. Responsibilities and breadwinning, at a tender age, exposed to. Can we not do the reproduction? Until we have adequate parental provision? Can we not bring them to the existence, When in the end, they will question their existence? These little ones have crosses to bear. But can it be a ‘just' one? The right one for their age and time Can we let them bear the cross of excellence? Can we win their daily bread? And to take up responsibilities bigger than they? Can we birth them when we are ready? And capable of giving them a life they deserve? One which is theirs? I write to becoming parents & spouses. Think of that ‘fetus' life after delivery. Birth, not that child because you impulsively want a child. Birth them for their good. The cross is too heavy for our present-day children. The struggle is tougher to them than it seems. Their young shoulders are beginning to sag. Their tiny little feet are beginning to fret They come to stagger in motion Yet the world lives in contention Some children are torn in between Who may help or redeem? And to help them bear the cross?

It felt like he was leaving a piece of himself behind as he hugged her tightly one last time and grudgingly made to enter the mini-van that would take him back to the city. It seemed somewhat of a breakthrough to get a means to travel despite the off the roof fare, as Inter-state movements had been banned for almost two months. Things had gotten so bad, even the most trusted health organisations couldn't tell when normalcy would make the trip back to mankind. They couldn't tell when this deadly virus would disappear and forever be gone. He got in and sat in the space reserved for him at the backseat and immediately began prompting his whole being to expect a hell of a ride. His claustrophobic legs were already angry with the little room they had. So angry they sent his knees sinking into the back-rest of the seat in front of him. His knees turned out to be very good agitators as they pushed through the fabric and frame of the seat and went on to nudge the passenger in front of him mildly, or maybe not mildly as the troublesome looking lady with unkempt locks occupying the seat turned dramatically with a stern look that could make her pass as a cheap replica of Medusa. He cared not to respond with words but did retort with a stare that roughly said, “I am 6 feet plus, what do you expect?”. She probably agreed with his assertion, as she turned and didn't look back again. While the driver reversed and made to drive out of the gas station he had parked in for fear of being extorted by the sometimes invisible but ever present touts who would have demanded a fee if he dared park by the roadside to pick a passenger in an area under their control, he didn't know how to feel. Sadness and excitement tried so hard to convince him to surrender to their respective influence. Sadness wanted him angry at himself for leaving her side. This was unacceptable and unromantic. "You're supposed to be able to stay a week more, after all you love her, dont you?" she questioned rather rhetorically. "You had better go resume work bro! Were you doing anything important here? No! Just those bouts of mushiness and tiring quarrels”. Excitement cut in brashly, wanting him to be exhilarated only about the new job he had started remotely two months ago. They had welcomed him to resume work and had paid him consistently without a cut. An occurrence people didn't hesitate to call a miracle as companies as a result of the lockdown and the slow but steady demise of business were either downsizing or slashing percentages off staff's salaries. As it seemed, excitement sounded harsher than sadness, he couldn't tell if she was trying to help his mood or just demean his relationship. As the vehicle moved along slowly, he looked through the window which had its pane wound down to wave his last goodbye. He knew she would miss him as much as he would miss her and that made him sober, but he had to feign a smile to hide his emotions. She stood there staring like she could start an unnecessary fight with the driver just to stall him driving her love away. She waved back at him with a smile he tried hard to decipher. It looked like it said “oh wow, he's actually leaving? The guts! Gosh I would miss him! But then, I won't dare let him know". That was it, the goodbye they had been avoiding. The driver plugged into the major road, and in a second the local music from his car stereo permeated every space in the red Toyota Siena. Adeolu's mind wandered through the happenings of the past three months. He had come back to town in the wake of the Corona Virus spread to spend the few leave days he was entitled to at his old job which he was dying to leave because he was overly dissatisfied with compensation, with Amara his fiancé. He had planned to stay in town a week at most so he could be back to the city to resume at his new work place. But Covid-19 had other plans. The virus transmitted really fast and this made governments ground every form of social activity including travel to curb the spread. He was fortunate enough to still be retained by the new company despite the harsh effect of the lockdown, he resumed his new job remotely and ended up spending almost ten weeks with Ammy. His face lit up with a smile as he remembered all the sweet talks, banters, fights, difficult conversations, strolls and sacrifices they shared during this unexpected long stay in town. They had been craving this time to bond as distance wouldn't let them bask in each other's company whenever they wished. He relished all the fun moments, laughter and the opportunity the lockdown afforded them to know each other better and appreciate what they shared. They both didn't want it to end. Adeolu turned swiftly, an action he knew was futile, to get one last glimpse of her, but as expected it was too late. He couldn't see her anymore. He had once more began the long painful journey away from love.

Once upon a time, there was a little boy, with no name, no color and no place to live. They say he lived in the sunflowers as there was his favorite place, but the thing is that he couldn't, actually see them, he was blind. The only color he had on him, was the black of his beautiful curly hair. Fed up of not being able to see the beauty around him, the little boy went to the wisest man in his village, he was known as “THE EBONY GUARDIAN”, he lived in a small, humble house just out of the beautiful sunflowers field, he was known to be the darkest man of his village and therefore, the wisest. As in the whole village, black was considered a sign of nobility and wisdom. “Master”, said the little boy, in sign of respect. “May I ask you something?” “sure, go ahead little boy!” said the man, looking at him. “do you know who I am, or where I come from or why I have no color at all?! I wish I could have a color just for me” said the boy looking sad and frustrated at the master. “I don't know what color you are or what is your name or where your place on the Earth is, but I can show you a place in this word where all the colors live together in the light that you can see and in the dark that hides everything”. saying that the master led the boy to the most beautiful place he'd ever seen, full of butterflies and flowers. The boy looked at the master curious and said: well, these are all the colors the world can be? Where's mine then? What color should I be? Do they speak any language that I could learn or am I a stranger even here? Whispered the boy so disappointed. “shhh! Whispered the master smiling at the boy, “watch”, added him pointing at the sky. The boy couldn't see anything so far. “White as the light before to show up its shades, black as the night where all the colors rest, until a new day comes and the rainbow lives again”. As soon as the master pronounced those words a wonderful rainbow stood up in the sky, with incredible, brilliant colors. Those colored lights hit the boy who had finally found what color he wanted to be, not just one but all the colors of the light, all the magic of a rainbow. “what's your color then?” asked the master “All the colors of the light!” exclaimed happily the boy. “And what's your name?” “Rainbow!” “And, finally: where do you come from?” “I come from the light that spreads in the world all the wonderful colors of the rainbow! The boy eventually, had found his colors, a name and his place, he always kept on the top of his head the black where the colors were hidden. And while the world goes on, fighting to decide who sparkles more than everyone, somewhere in a nowhere there always will be a rainbow to show the light with its colors and a dark, quite night to let them rest until tomorrow.

Loving my son is like the purest of seas on a white, sun-dappled beach. Palmtrees sway calmly in the cool breeze in the backdrop. The warmth on that beach hugs you. Your toes tickle the silky soft sand, there where it meets the turquoise water. You gasp and your tummy registers butterflies - purely from enraptured happiness - because you see brightly coloured fishies and stingrays and sea turtles glide contently underneath the water's surface. You're in touch with nature, in the here-and-now. You feel peaceful and calm, you want for nothing and everthing you need is there, in that moment. The sun glistens on the water, sparkles richly like diamonds: God's Thousand Wonderful Winks. You turn around and the few people you love so dearly smile at you. They offer sunscreen, an umbrella, a seat, a cold drink and freshly prepared fruit (and, of course, some chocolate and a pizza). You breathe in and out, all stress and worries drifting off into nothingness. In the far distance, you hear music; your body slowly tunes into the beat, your hips wiggle along. You hear the leaves rattling rhythmically in the wind. You smile back at them. A single tear trails your cheek, your lips, and disappears down your neck. It's a tear of the happiness that the intense love you feel gives you. That is how I love my little boy, laden with pride, selflessness and extreme gratitude.

A story that provides information to young children (7 and older) about the Corona Virus (Covid-19). THE VIRONAUT Sami had fun talking about ‘adventures' in his class. “Adventures are exciting activities,” the teacher explained. That evening Sami's mom announced that schools would close because of corona virus, also called Covid-19. “What is corona virus?” Sami asked. “It's a harmful virus or germ that makes people sick as in colds and flu. Corona virus makes some people very sick,” mom explained. “Why close schools, Mom?” Sami asked. “When people come close to one another, corona virus spreads fast. When people stay at home, they are safe. The virus stops spreading,” Mom said. “How?” Sami asked. “When a person sneezes, coughs or spits, the droplets fall on another person, who can then get sick. The germs also fall and stay on surfaces like tables, books, pens or handrails. The corona virus lives for days on surfaces,” Mom explained. “So, there can be corona viruses on surfaces at grocery stores or drugstores too, right?” Sami asked. “Yes. That's why when we go out, we stay at a distance from people and try not to touch surfaces,” Mom replied. “What if the virus gets on our hands anyway? Sami asked. “That's why every time we come back, we wash our hands with soap and water for at least 20 seconds. If there is no soap and water, we use hand sanitizer,” said Mom. “One more thing,” Mom said. “Stop touching your face with your hands. If you do, the virus on your hands will enter your body through your nose, eyes, ears or mouth.” “Can we look at a person and tell if he or she has the corona virus?” Sami asked. “People who look well can still be carriers of the virus. They can infect another person in the same way as someone who is sick with the virus,” said Mom. “But what will we do at home with no school?” Sami asked. “We'll follow the school routine,” Mom said. “But once school work is done, you are free to do anything you want,” Mom said. “After I finish schoolwork, I'll be a vironaut and have adventures! I'll kill all the corona virus germs!” Sami announced. Mom made Sami a vironaut costume with a mask and gloves. As soon as Sami completed his schoolwork, he put on the costume. “Virrrooom!” he called out and was ready for viroaction. The doorbell rang. He ran down just as Mom opened the door. There was a package on the doorstep. “Wait,” Sami told Mom. “Virrrooom!” Sami called out, zoomed and got a pack of disinfectant wipes and a pair of latex gloves. “Mom, put on these gloves and wipe the package first,” said Sami Mom did. She opened the package and took out a rug. “For you,” she said. Sami unrolled the rug and saw numbers on it. “It's a hopscotch rug!” Sami exclaimed. Mom put the rug in the family room. “Virrroom! This is fun!” Sami played hopscotch. “Let's walk to the park,” Mom said. “Wait Mom,” said Sami. “Virrrooom!” Sami dashed to get disinfectant wipes. At the park, Sami cleaned the bench for his mom. He cleaned the swing seat and the chains before sitting on it. There were two other people in the park. They kept their distances from one another. “I'm happy we both got some exercise. Exercise keeps the body strong to fight the corona virus,” Mom reminded Sami. They walked home. “Virrrooom! Hand washing time!” Sami announced. “Lets do the virocount to make sure we wash for 20 seconds.” As they washed, Mom and Sami repeated, ‘vi-ro-naut 1, vi-ro-naut 2 until they reached vi-ro-naut 10'. It took them 20 seconds. They washed between fingers and under their nails. They washed up to their wrists. Sami was still in his vironaut costume when Dad came home. “Do I know you?” Dad asked. “I'm a vironaut, a killer of bad viruses! Virrrooom! Dad, come, I'll show you how to virowash your hands,” Sami said. At dinner, Sami looked at his plate and saw broccoli in it. He wanted to say no to broccoli but today Sami was a vironaut. He must eat healthy. “Virrrooom!” Sami finished the chicken, potatoes and broccoli. Mom asked, “Sami, what would you like for dessert?” “Virrrooom! Fresh fruit please,” said the vironaut. The day's adventures had made Sami sleepy. Mom and dad came to say goodnight. “Virrrooom!” said Sami and fell asleep.

Remembering twins One a boy the other a girl Returned to The Father.

Enjoy the Book and Nourrish your Soul.

When we first met, some 35 years ago, I was so pregnant with my first baby, I resembled an overstuffed couch. I'd forsaken style when I couldn't reach around my own belly to shave my legs, sporting enough hair to scrape clean a BBQ grill. You, having just sold a million dollar house, crossed our threshold like a runway-model, tall and confident, pivoting on heels resembling knitting needles. You warmly embraced me and I caught the subtle scent of an exotic perfume. The last fragrance I'd worn came from a flap ripped from a waiting-room magazine. “I'm so envious,” you whispered midst a cheek peck. “You look amazing.” I wanted to find fault in you, something ugly. Unfortunately, we had to get along. Our husbands were loyal friends having just returned from months serving on an aircraft carrier. I loved my husband enough to oblige. Besides, you cursed, gossiped, and fiercely loved your man, instantly winning me over. That afternoon, we sat in my kitchen with the government-issued paperwork before us. Form-DD193 was a mandatory document for married officers and signing it meant one of us would be present at notification time should the other's husband get killed-in-action. While the guys watched football in the den, you and I discussed a contract where we'd bear witness to the other's worst nightmare. Before signing, you took my hands in yours. “You need to understand something.” Your eyes were sharp and sincere. “If Ken dies, I'll know. I'll simply get his gun and pull the trigger.” I gasped. Then, you made me promise never to tell a sole. In utter shock, I nodded. After releasing my hands, you flamboyantly scratched your signature on DD193 and grinned as though you'd just sold me a duplex. That afternoon, we passed across bits of ourselves like poker chips. Enamored by your every word, something more than my baby swelled inside me. It was the seedling of our friendship. In time, you confided you couldn't have children. I simply had no words. The more I understood you, the more you both fascinated and troubled me. Killing myself wasn't an option because I was a mom, but what if I wasn't? Did my not wanting to take that eternal journey with Jimmy mean I loved him less than you loved Ken? Or did it mean I loved myself more than I loved Jimmy? At 23 years old, I hadn't a clue. In many waning hours, I imagined what I'd do if I got 'that' call. Would I physically restrain you? I'd have a small advantage over you in your stilettos, but I couldn't hang on to you like a chimp forever. I once asked if you even knew how to shoot a gun. “Don't need to know when the only target is in my own mouth.” While our husbands deployed to foreign lands over the years, you and I ran the gamut of emotions. I came to understand that you missed Ken more than I had room to miss Jimmy. You and I survived Thanksgivings and Christmases together without our husbands.You held my hand when I gave birth the second time and stayed with me until Jimmy returned. You were the catalyst for my return to grad school. After years of friendship, our husbands were being transferred to opposite American coasts. We spent our last Sunday together, laughing and relaxing on deck chairs, avoiding conversation about our impending separation, but it loomed large. The following morning, Jimmy left before dawn for his last two week deployment and I was exhausted but rendered wide awake. I distracted myself with moving preparations, avoiding thoughts of going months, perhaps even years, without seeing you. By mid-afternoon, fatigue hit me like a tranquilizer dart and I laid down with the boys for a delicious nap. The phone woke me and I answered but heard only dial-tone. Sometime later, my fuzzy brain registered the doorbell ringing. I slid from the bed and jogged down the stairs, not wanting the boys to be startled awake. I opened the door to find five or six officers in dress uniforms standing before me. For a second, I was confused until the pieces quickly fell into place. I had to go with them to tell you Ken was gone. “He's dead, isn't he?” I grabbed the door frame. I had prepared for this, certainly thought about it more than the average military wife. I stifled a sob; there would be time to cry later. I took a deep breath. I had to do this for you. “What about my boys? I can't leave them here alone.” “We can help you with your sons, madam.” The tallest of the men looked uneasy in his stiff jacket as he gestured towards an impeccable, uniformed woman I hadn't noticed. “Ms. Louise is a child psychologist. She'll stay as long as you need.” Dazedly reassured, I shifted focus. I would share your plan with these professionals. Hell with betrayal, I knew what was about to unfold and it terrified me. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I prayed I was still dreaming but when I opened my eyes the officers were still there. They slowly parted as if on cue. That was when I saw you.

To Lose a Child Through Life - A Poem It's impossible to know that you child is still OK To protect your child was your job, so you think you failed in every way When your child is no longer with you and still so very young You can't help but think there must be more you could have done You turn the music up and sob while in your car and the shower hides your tears You know you can't survive this kind of loss another day, another month, another year Yet, the years go by and you realize you're still alone Although you did all you knew and could, your child did not come home The child you carried and brought into this world has gone away There's nothing left to do but pray and pray and pray How evil are those who desire nothing more than to destroy the mother-child bond You continue to seek justice, but the gutwrenching pain goes on and on No matter how huge the loss, you have no choice but to start another day Without your child that gave your life meaning in every way You lie down at night and think of your child and feel so all alone There is nothing in this world you want more than for your child to just come home. - Robin Karr Losing a child ‘through life' is the most horrific way to lose a child.Until a couple of decades ago, nobody had ever lost a child in this way– at least not in mass numbers. And, children didn't go missing ‘legally'. No mother should ever have to lose a child through life. It's not normal. It's not natural. There is no closure. There is no end to the gut wrenching pain. The wound does not ever heal. In fact, it never even forms a scab toward healing. It remains perpetually open… The taking of living children from living mothers is something so terrible, so evil, that there is no way to really describe such a loss. Not really... Mama loves you, Bradyn and Gracelyn

Today, I read a small introduction to a webinar I am taking through Friesen Press and it told me that I am an Authorpreneur. The term is very unique to me and it made me feel like my life long writing career has become just that, a legitimized career. I have been an Entrepreneur since the age of four with my first lemonade stand out side my parents house. I've always known I was a business minded person and today my writing career has really solidified it's position in my life. I am so overjoyed because the job part finally feels real and to be so open to the world is such an amazing and overwhelming feeling. I am humbled by this new experience. This is truly an amazing moment. In the next post, I'll have some examples of my work for You. My exciting novel "Viktor, Into the Light" will be coming out in the summer of 2020 and my Thanks goes to Friesen Press for making this lifelong dream come true. Viktor, called an "epic" good versus evil story by Friesen Press excites me to tell you about it. He's sexy and moral. He discovers a few things about his family and longs for one of his own. Look for it in the Friesen Press bookstore or eBooks and give a copy to your staff, friends, mother, sister, or your aunties. Viktor is a satisfying read for anyone 14+. Well, I'll post some examples of my work for you now. See you in the next post. Julie Ann