Lost Corner Letters

Some thoughts on life and living

The things our world cannot steal, the things that will last, are your integrity, your purpose and, for me, a richly woven inner tapestry that values a worn-down old place in Chatham County as highly as the biggest, finest American home.
Mitzi Viola, “At Home“

Essays, etc.

May we humanize

We were firmly set in our positions, content to lob insults, lies, and memes across the American divide. Until the rain came. Until the earth beneath every assumption failed, releasing us into a torrent of destiny. Until the power failed. Until water consumed all, leaving not a drop to drink. Until husbands and wives, mothers…
Don’t push the pond

A tentative spring arrived at the pond behind my house. A network of green water plants unfolds in the shallow area as the pine and hardwood screen behind my porch fills in the space left empty during winter de-greening. The frogs are back in full force, a concert in D minor offered each evening. If…
Completion

We come into this world at once tethered by spirit to the genesis of all this was and is and all that will ever be, while grounded by umbilical cord to the literal seed from which we sprout. Forced headlong through or perhaps lifted from a womb by sterile hands under insulting fluorescence, we arrive…
Remembrance

When my father was young, he and his kid brother donated their tricycle for the war effort. Patriots young and old lined the sepia-toned streets of their hometown to give household metals for reuse. Dad was a dark-haired, dark-eyed Italian beauty with the tell-tale lips of the Irish Grady clan. Uncle Mike was less secure…
Valid

You know the game – on this day 25 years ago [fill in the blank]. It’s the kind of trivia you hear at parties or celebrations of noteworthy anniversaries. There’s a company that has a retro-designed booklet of the highlights of popular culture in the year you were born. You can buy it at Morgan…
Crow’s nest

From her high evening perch, the beacon’s lamp is small, a warm orb that highlights white caps rolling endlessly ashore. Years of living teach high perspective. The sun will rise in soft pinks to rest in session over blue waters and crystal sand before bowing to the western horizon and finally tucking behind the fresh…

some thoughts on writing a life…

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I am a nonprofit development officer and student of life. For me, writing offers new ways of seeing ordinary things. I write to promote the common good and decrease the distances between people. Thanks so much for reading.
Mitzi