In Three’s

My Grandma used to say something along the lines of “It happens in Three’s” – she believed it.

It is a phrase repeated by some when loss strikes…  Why do we say things like this, is it a superstition carried-over from some ancient grasp for acceptance?  Is there a power of three that some people cling to?  Is it real?

I never really gave it much thought.

I wonder what Grandma would say now that one of her son’s has passed-away, the third branch of my family tree to die in the last sixty days.

“They go in Three’s?”

Sharing Gifts with Sarrah

I revised these pages weaving in some valuable feedback from the Tribe of Writers that I am privileged to spend time with.

Can Bryan Write?

Cover copy

As if quietly nudged, the desire came to preserve what I can recall from the life of Sarrah, the cute little spotted dog that invaded, influenced and ultimately improved my life.

A few days ago my work took me out to look at a house in Belfair near the Hood Canal, then to another at the north end of Bainbridge Island.  On this long drive I was painfully missing my road trip partner and thinking about how much she would’ve delighted in the adventures of that day.  Inevitably she’d have spotted a park, given me “the look” in my rear view mirror, started to use one or more of her many whines, growls, barks or howls from her large vocal repertoire (she reserved snorts for the rare occasion when there wasn’t enough time to stop) and we would have embarked on another new earthen gift, which busy people drive right on…

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