Two weeks ago, my writing group held their annual writing retreat. It’s a getaway I look forward to every year. The cottage is right on the beach and I walk the sandy shores in the early morning and again later in the day.  Each retreat, I look for stones, especially heart shaped stones, because in years past, they were a message to me from God. Hearts are our thing.  Tuesday morning, I searched the ground but nothing jumped out at me. No heart shapes. Instead, I found feathers, which ironically did mean something to me after watching a movie the

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