A reflection by Kim Steinberg The first time I see The Virgin Mary in the dim light of St. Mary’s chapel, seated in the second pew, I...

Outside the camper, birds cry out, upset about the pending weather. Around here, lightning flashes and thunder booms without rain, but tonight's forecast calls for a downpour. I like to watch storms, feel the wild electric energy, smell the earth. I think of last January, when the ring tone snuck through my Do Not Disturb setting. Like the storm, you don't know the damage until it's over. The things that might have been.

The walks are flat on these country lanes. Around the pond, past the field, stopping at the horses. I walk, write and think about my son. I still cry every day, but not as hard and not as long. It doesn't hurt as much, somewhere else, somewhere new - in this unfamiliar land.