All Posts By Renee DeMont

A Letter To My Recently Separated Friend

We spoke this morning. You wept tears of confusion, hurt, and fear. I want you to know: I AM HERE. I may not have the answers, but I will...

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Down Sizing for a Bigger Life

Take a moment and imagine… Imagine cutting your bills in half. Imagine making significant changes; affording yourself the opportunity for...

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In My Other Life

This entry is part 1 of 12 in the series: January Flashback Originally Published February 2016 Have your ever asked yourself: who would I...

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Her Name Was JOY

As she stepped inside my home tonight, I could see she wasn’t in a hurry. Seemed to want to linger a bit. Came to pick up a beautiful...

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Our Stories Unite Us

He had spent some time in prison. Today, he was standing in my kitchen. Only two years older than I, deep heavy grooves etched into his...

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Staring Down Flames of Destruction

This happened the other day, just down the street. A block from my house. A WALL OF FIRE. Stunned, sudden nausea prompted me to swallow...

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Being Homeless is NOT for Cowards

Red lights were spinning tenaciously atop both cop cars; sirens silenced, as if in anticipation. Something happened, but what? Uniformed...

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In the Event of the Sudden Death of a Parent

Had THE TALK with my daughter tonight. Well, not THE talk (that came years ago) but the more difficult one, I believe regarding: what...

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The Death Divorce

“Was your childhood so bad?” I placed the last of the groceries on the top shelf in the fridge, closed the door, and waited for...

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The Importance of Being Still and the Get Up and Go

My four year old son asked, “Are we up in the air yet?” With the certainty of a frequent flyer his twin sister responded,...

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The Thing with Divorce?

It leaves a scent. Like a barbecue cooking in a new neighbors backyard, on a hot summer day. Men get a whiff, and they want to be invited...

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The Good Girl and the Gun Runner

“You were protective.” It wasn’t a thank you; it was an accusation. He was pissed. Yes, my seventeen-year-old son can be...

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I Remember this Feeling

I was nine when they drove away from my foster home. First, my parents. Then, four years later, my grandparents. Finally, it was me in the...

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Pitch Black

It was more like the crack of a shotgun, than an explosion. Breath caught in my throat. Flinching, I recoiled into a ball; my legs and...

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What’s the Next Chapter in Your Story?

9/11 Somber day. Reflective. Life, at every stage, is temporary; delicate, like a piece of rice paper. It occurred to me a few days...

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30 Things I Learned After He Moved Out

I love my dog. He’s a soft, sweet space heater that keeps my feet warm at night. It’s okay to sleep on the couch when you are...

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