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My door bell rings. I open the door and find my friend, Lisa standing on the stoop. “The book I ordered you arrived,” she says. Lisa hands me the book. I thank her. She is thoughtful as always. We say goodbye. I close the door and head into my family room. I turn on the…

I had many years where I would say I lived a life that was pretty perfect. I was low stress, organized, philanthropic, living in the moment and overall, I would say, pretty much together. Then things fell apart. While I tried to save my marriage as only a party of one……….I neglected to truly accept…

I am five-years-old. I grab the vacuum hose and climb onto the brick fireplace. I belt out my best version of “Hello, Dolly” for the living room audience. I can be whatever I wish, whatever I dream is possible. In fact, I am so richly confident, I change my mind weekly. I will be a singer…

The table chatter is rampant. Waiters and waitresses rush through the packed crowd. The wine glasses fiddle from hand to hand in between the noshing of tapas. There are three of us on this weekday evening. We discuss work while others are well into the post-work, happy hour mood. We are discussing features for an…

I am in the basement of my childhood home. I am with my brother and sisters. One of them snatches a box from behind the bar. I sift through the box. It overflows with cards and notes. My thoughts drift back to the day that I grab my mom’s birthday card from her bedroom dresser.…

I enter my home, sink into my chaise lounge and weep. The tears that find their way out are not slow and graceful, but violent and thunderous. I try to muffle them, but they show no signs of being quieted. I pick up the phone, dial my friend, “Charo,” and while I try to speak,…

I often say that I write of love. If you go to my website (www.colleensheehyorme.com) and to the, “About Me,” page it is how I define my brand. I also say that ‘love,’ is as simple, yet as complicated as the concept of ‘brand,’ is to business. The marketer in me realizing that love is…

It is early evening as I step through the front doors of the assisted living rehabilitation center. The building is quiet as I meander down the hall. I spy a familiar face and walk into the room. The mood is joyful and lively. My friend’s father sits up in the bed. He is wearing his…

We sit nestled under an umbrella. The late August sun peeks out around us. We are jabbering relentlessly because far too many years have passed between us. The waiter stops to take our order only to be ushered away while we chat some more. For me there are not enough hours in this visit. I…

I’ve never needed to be right. What I tell my children is to remember what I did right. Remember the moments I caught myself distracted and not listening to what made your world go round and I stopped and heard your precious voice. Remember the moments I sang to you in the car while the…
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