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Diane Tarantini

The Widow’s Might

“You really should change the name of this place,” I told the young care provider when she entered the exam room. “To me, ‘Department of Digestive Diseases’ sounds like death.” The pretty young woman laughed, then explained the name was changed since so many people couldn’t figure out what “gastroenterology” was. She turned to my…

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Oh, How He Loves

She was only 18, our first-born daughter, when she flew alone for the first time. Her destination wasn’t Florida or even California. It was farther. Much. She’d cross the equator and continue on to the Southern Hemisphere, to Peru where she’d teach English for three months in a small school located in Huancayo. It was…

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The Wander Years

I could be a crazy cat lady, here in my century-old Sears kit house. As comfortable as I am in my status quo, a hermit’s existence wouldn’t be difficult. All it would take is a few more felines. Each morning I wake up, kiss Husband goodbye, make a pot of coffee and Junior-Man’s lunch, then…

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Nerf War

Diane Tarantini

Have you ever read a text or email and you couldn’t figure out the sender’s tone? Was the person joking or being very mean? This week I received one such message. Since then, I’ve been trying to decide whether to reply or not. My gut (Is that you, Holy Spirit?) says, “Don’t even think about…

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