Welcome!

Dear Reader,

I'm glad you're here to be a part of the stories. This is where the journey begins. Please join me on past pathways and new horizons.

                   First, here's a little about me.

I am a retired Executive Assistant pursuing my love of stories and writing. When I am not writing, I'm crocheting baby hats for a pregnancy center.

I earned a Master’s Degree in Human Relations and a Certificate in Bereavement Support.

          Now, a taste (pun intended) of my story.

Do you remember the first time you bit into a ripe, juicy peach? I do. Pure delight. We had a peach tree in our backyard in Queens, New York. Peach juice dripped down my chin in sweet sticky rivulets. I had to bend over to keep it from getting on my clothes.

                My dad was an expert peach picker.

My hand finds the “just right” peach. Not too firm. Not too mushy. Just right. The rosy red and coral color flirts with my eyes. I pick it up and feel its soft skin. The aroma entices. I savor its ripe fragrance. I bring the peach to my mouth. Its fuzz tickles. My teeth cut through the tender fruit. Sweet juice squirts in my mouth, on my lips, and even onto my chin. This is a perfectly ripe peach.

 

I enjoy a moment of gratitude for the tantalizing treat and that I had a dad who taught me how to pick peaches.

 

All my best,

Abigail Grace Cox