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Swans

Happier & Healthier Living: Sandwich Generation

The Baby Boomer Sandwich I remember some years ago someone saying that baby boomers would be a sandwich generation. By the time they were in their middle years they might have frail parents while still be looking after their own children or helping with grandchildren. At the time I dismissed the comment, thinking that the [...]

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Childhood Fear by Penny Luker

Cupboard under the stairs
Dark, damp and desolate.
Little child alone;
hears key turn in lock.
Screams ignored.

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War Runner by Catherine Hackman

Those of us who survive make camp in the woods. My ten-year-old daughter and I sit on a white sheet with a dim lantern between us. Grasshoppers and other insects gravitate to the thin light, and we eat them like popcorn, throwing away legs and wings as if they are unburst kernels. Her skin glows [...]

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A Tale of Two Ditties by Penny Luker

There was a young girl from Belgrave,
Who was incredibly brave.
She went into the fire
To rescue young Maia
It was good that her life, she did save.

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The Reluctant Horse Whisperer by Ann Tinkham

Camille had been terrified of horses ever since Pinto, her rent-a-horse, went on a wild tear, galloping through the dense pine woods of northern Michigan on a family outing led by Blanche, a woman who dubbed herself the “Horse Whisperer.”

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Love is Born Again by Blanche M. Jenkins

A bubbling seed embraced in the breast of a world
Forming roots within the beauty of its surroundings
Patiently awaiting due season, a time to unfold
The art of new being

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The Candle by Cathrine Lødøen

The candle which guided you through the tunnel was never meant to light up your day.

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Coming To This by Pat Phillips West

The idea comes one rainy Sunday
when we take a break from antique hunting,
head to Blue Kangaroo Coffee. You pick up
a wadded piece of paper left on the chair, smooth
it flat. Read the last line out loud, Sally,
it’s time to leave. I’ve not been happy for years.

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7-22-37 by Catherine Hackman

“Rest Area, ½ mile.” Stephanie could barely make out the lettering through the fog. As she approached the off-ramp, she braked several times to warn any vehicles that might be following too closely. Kenny Rogers finished up singing The Gambler on the only station her rental car radio could catch.

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Life Running By by Karoline Barrett

At first you run on. It doesn’t register. Then one day, you notice something out of the corner of your eye. But it flashes by in a blur so quickly you must have imagined it, right? A photograph propped up on a pile of rocks at the end of someone’s yard bordering the running trail. No reason to stop. You’re in a zone. Probably just a piece of trash caught there.

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One Last Drink by Amber Cook

“I guess things just got a little overwhelming,” Adrianne said, lifting the lipstick stained glass to her lips.

He thought her eyes looked tired.

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Love Letters by Miranda Koerner

It started with a pot of cold coffee.
Stumbling into the kitchen, Victoria pawed at the cabinet for a clean cup. She had twenty minutes, twenty precious minutes, to eat her breakfast before the whirlwind of squealing cartoons, bickering children and a permanently starved German Sheppard blew in.

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The First Winter Day by Lisa Lauducci

“What do you mean you can’t?” She asked.

“I can’t. But it’s not that I don’t want to.” He paused. “It’s not…”

Her head dropped. “I know.”

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Forgiveness by Cathrine Lødøen

Hidden in between
the thoughts of regret
is all the love that
we forgot to give
and all the love
we refused to receive.

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Blind and Powerless by Lisa Zaran

I survived a ten hour work shift knowing
you no longer love me.

Here I am yelling at my phone for not ringing.

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Dress up by Ann Falcone Shalaski

“Let me play in your shoes,”
my daughter asked,

clomping in high heels.
“You look lovely,” I said.

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In Defense of Red Hair That Curls by Lori Tucker-Sullivan

“Is that natural curl?” the stranger asked me as she passed. Her face was heavy under layers of make up, and she half-smiled in a look of friendly contempt, not hiding her jealousy over the auburn curls that framed my face. She was older than I, a few years past fifty, I guessed. The makeup filled in crevices around her eyes and mouth.

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Imprint on Time by Cole DeNardo

I felt like Atlas carrying the world on my shoulders. Forcing an exhausted smile and sweating beads, I placed the hot dinner plates on the table. I shook my blistered hands to cool them.

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