Denise E Lindquist
Bio
I am married with 7 children, 28 grands, and 13 great-grandchildren. I am a culture consultant part-time. I write A Poem a Day in February for 8 years now. I wrote 4 - 50,000 word stories in NaNoWriMo. I write on Vocal/Medium daily.
Stories (1233)
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Sudden Infant Death Syndrome
My baby almost died. I hadn't smoked cigarettes, drank or taken any drugs during my pregnancy. Nothing. His daddy was a daily pot smoker. I never was but I had smoked probably more than my share in my teens and early years of adult life.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Confessions
Strained Conversations
Have you noticed lately how conversations can be uncomfortable. There is more silence than ever before? I have noticed that even with family conversations. They can be stunted, strained or short, and it feels like it is just since the pandemic.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Confessions
Counseling On An Airplane Ride
Flying on an airplane has become one of my favorite pastimes. The landing at our destination especially. This was a business trip my husband and I were going on. I would swim, tan and hang out in the hotel while he worked. He was selling cardio and respiratory pharmaceuticals.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Psyche
It Happened On An Airplane Ride
On a trip to Texas for a Mary Kay convention, I was excited and couldn't wait to see Mary Kay; it was only the second time I had flown. I was with a good friend and she had flown more than I had. After we had taken off, I started to feel ill. I did not remember getting sick the last time I was flying.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Confessions
The Third Time Is The Charm
My husband is one of my favorite sources when I write about everyday life. He is funny, we laugh a lot, he likes to rhyme and tease and he is a great family guy. He is in great shape for his 73 years, active, and is a pretty good card player. We have recovery and motorcycles in common.
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Families
What Happened, I Asked The Police And Later The Psychiatrist.
The mirror showed a reflection that wasn't my own. It was barely visible. I believed it was a woman. But I didn't think it was me. Then I thought, it was the mirror that got fogged up because of my shower. But how could that be me when hands are clearly on the mirror and mine are not?
By Denise E Lindquist3 years ago in Fiction
