EVERY HOOFPRINT

While grief may not be a gift by nature, I would consider it a lesson for life. I did not understand how other people seemed to recover after a death. I saw grief as the most difficult mountain someone could ever face. An impossible climb up a mountain with no clear path to the summit, where the air grows thinner with each step and the weight of loss makes every movement feel like walking through quicksand. Until I lost my aunt, I wasn’t familiar with grief. What happened to

To whom it may concern,  Have you ever asked yourself who is holding the pen to your life story?  There are moments when you look back at your life as if it were a book, every experience a page, every year a chapter. The funny thing is you realize you never actually agreed to write it. Page after page and chapter after chapter have already been written for you. Paths you did not choose or ask for. Decisions were made in courts and conference rooms where your presence was not

I wandered through a world of noise,  Where silence used to scream.  Each echo told a tale undone,  Each shadow held a painful wound. My heart longs for belonging and safety. The faces I pass blur into one endless crowd. Everyone seemed to know who they were and where they were supposed to be. Here I stood still, unable to move a muscle. Letting the world rush past me, wondering whether I will learn to move like them. In the end, the noise never became familiar. I remained a

Throughout human history, people have always been curious about stories involving ghosts, spirits and the supernatural. Cultures around the world have their own version of these tales and stories of the unseen that linger between life and death. A ghost is often described as the soul of a person who died but can’t move on for some reason. Sometimes they appear like shadows or figures, other times they are heard through noises, whispers or footsteps.

When I first met you, it was the kind of unexpected meeting we read about in romantic books.  It was never about looks.  It was the way...

Dear Diary, When I was a little girl, my father was my hero. I admired him more than anyone in my little world. He was everything to me....