Monthly Archives: May 2017

Moving Madness

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma sells insurance.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Moving Madness

As most of you know, I moved recently. I wasn’t planning on moving and really didn’t want to buy my own place, but because of the crazy neighbor situation which was getting kind of scary. (There is a lot I did not talk about in the blog, and I am still working on typing up pages and pages of notes of the craziness.) I don’t know if I will share the entire story on the blog, but because of the craziness, and I think this man could still be dangerous, I wanted to type up all my notes, just in case I might need them at some point. Lord only knows, I wish I’d kept notes on all Emma’s nefarious activities. I did keep some notes on her vomiting, but Phill has those.

Back in the fall, I think it was, when Phill had his (wink, wink, nudge, nudge) “attorney” Bradley D. Moody of Lee Sexton and Associates P.C., son-in-law of Matt Klos, husband of Jessie Klos Moody, father to little Ella Moody, who signs his letters with his Bar#655693 ……………. Mr. Bradley D. Moody sent me a letter on Phill’s behalf wanting me to pick up the few things Phill was allowing me to have out of our Buck Trail home in Hoschton, Ga., and Mr. Bradley D. Moody went so far as to threaten me with storage charges because Phill had my things, oh, and I needed to send a 3rd party because my husband couldn’t face me showing up at our Hoschton home. (I am THAT scary 😉 Anyway, I told Phill he could donate my things to whatever charity he choose. I was not coming to get them. I was renting a furnished house and had no where to put things, and to be honest, the thought of having to go through the things Phill was allowing me to have, and deciding what to keep and what to get rid of would have been so painful, I just preferred not to do it.

Were there things I wanted, yes, of course. There were a lot of personal things, photos, letters, yearbooks, books, mementos, things that meant something to me that Phill would have not even known why they were important to me. There was an antique framed poem that a friend, who has since passed away, had given me that hung on our bedroom wall. There was my childhood postcard collection, many of which came from my grandmother (as in belonged to her, so they were really old), and there were little things I’d gotten from the countries I lived in growing up, as well as our Christmas ornaments (I’m sure Kimberly Chassion is not going to want any part of the ornaments Phill and I accumulated over 26 years of marriage.) There were the glass animals that I had collected when we lived overseas, and the sweet notes Phill had written me over the years, some with little cartoon drawings. (Phill wasn’t much of an artist, but I loved the sentiment.) Phill wouldn’t let me have Emma’s baby photos, so those wouldn’t have been in there.

I think you can get the gist of what I’m saying. All you have to do is look around your home and think of all the little things you have that mean something to you.

In another way though, I lost everything that was important to me. I lost my husband and my daughter. I lost my marriage. I lost my identity. I was no longer Phill’s wife, Emma’s mom, a UPS wife, a boring housewife, etc. And when you lose everything, stuff isn’t that important. Yes, there are things I miss, and sometimes something will pop into my head that I wish I had, and it breaks my heart that it is gone forever, but then again, it is just stuff.

Unfortunately, buying a home, I realize how much stuff I DON’T have. If you look at our old insurance statement to the Buck Trail home, I think Phill had our possessions insured for about $160,000, if I remember right. I will have to dig up that statement. Phill knows he owes me a furnished house, but he’s still living in denial, so I don’t expect him to help me out, and I don’t think I would receive a warm reception if I called him up and said, “Hey, Honey, can I borrow our drill, the mower, the chainsaw, a ladder………..?” Or, “Can I borrow the truck to go down to IKEA for a bed?” “Or what about all those computer you had, honey? And the three or four printers?” I did ask Phill for a television, when the one he gave me died after about 3 months. I didn’t even ask for a good one. We had an old monster of a tv in the garage that he just had to have one Thanksgiving, but then a couple years later he just had to have a flat screen, so that big monster sat out in the garage. I asked him for that one, knowing he didn’t care about it, but he ignored my request. What a Peach. Oh, wait, Phill’s from Brick, New Jersey. He’s definitely not a peach.

I have no tools, (Ok, I bought a hammer and a screwdriver.) no mower, no shovel, rake, hedge trimmers, weed wacker, sheets, towels, dishes, silverware, ect. I bought a mattress and box springs last year, but the bed belonged to my landlord. Phill had the complete advantage by throwing me out of our home. He had all the “stuff” and doled out only what he allowed me to have. I didn’t even have a blanket or comforter for my bed because when I had asked Phill for the blanket that was in my closet and a comforter, he wouldn’t bring them to me. The things I used at the rental house belonged to my landlord, and fortunately, it’s been warm, so sleeping under the sheet has been enough for now, and then today, a friend gave me a nice comforter, so I will have it when I need it. Some other friends gave me a sofa and chair, and I’m shopping for some used furniture. I’m not in any hurry. I don’t plan on moving again, and I need so much, I figure I have plenty of time. (Of course, when we moved to our Buck Trail, Hoschton home, I thought I would never move again. Little did I know what my husband was capable of.)

I still have no mower, but I hired someone to cut the grass.  I did buy a shovel though.

Moving alone has been quite an adventure, and you find out who your friends are when you have to move. I was so lucky to have friends and family who helped me move, gave me some things, and for some coworkers who rearranged their schedules to work for me. I didn’t realize I was supposed to work my last weekend in the rental house, and I had friends coming with a trailer to help me, and as soon as one of my coworkers said, “Aren’t you working this weekend?” Three of my coworkers offered to cover for me. I didn’t even have time to worry about it. It was taken care of.

Phill always set up stuff like the internet, so I had to do that, and it took me three weeks #windstreamsucks, but I got it done. After dealing with Windstream, I had about decided that I could just go down to the library a couple of times a week and live without internet, but it’s nice to have. When my 12 months is up though, I may change to satellite. After what Windstream put me though, trying to get established, I HATE them. It’s kind of funny because when I was asking around, trying to find out what my options were, I found that Windstream pretty much has the monopoly in my area, and I can’t tell you the number of times I heard, “And they suck.”

With all this chaos, I had a few days off, so took the last 5 days to go visit a friend in another state that I hadn’t seen in a while, and the next couple of weeks I am working some extra, so I will be pretty busy, but I wanted to share some thoughts today.

Dear readers, I have a lot more to say. I wanted to finish, “Death of a Marriage” and I still have Emma’s vomiting issues to tackle. Let me know if there’s anything else you want to hear about. As always, send your comments or questions to me at: losingemma@gmail.com

 

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma has a career in sales.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

May 14, 2017

Mother’s Day

motherpin

This is my 7th Mother’s Day without my daughter. I had 16 Mother’s Days with Emma, and actually the 16th was pretty lousy, so I really had 15 good Mother’s Days with my daughter. It was just before that 16th Mother’s day,of 2010 that I had had told my sister in Ct. about Emma’s accusing the priest of sexual molestation. I think that was about the time Emma really began to hate me. I remember picking her up in the car and telling her that I had spoken with her aunt, and Emma was so furious she wouldn’t even speak to me. We were planning a trip to go visit, and my sister and brother-in-law would know something wasn’t right, so I felt I had to tell them. Emma’s control-freak, micro-managing mother was taking things too far, talking to police, counselors, family, friends, etc. The snowball was rolling down hill and picking up speed. All Emma wanted was attention, and she didn’t want the church, the police, the therapists, DFACS, multiple therapists involved. Well, actually, Emma did like some of the attention. She just wanted to pick and choose which attention she received. She loved her hour with the therapists where she had their undivided attention all focused on her for an entire hour. I remember when Emma was middle school age, and Phill kept calling her a drama queen. I thought he was overreacting a little bit to what was a typical pre-teen girl. Maybe he was, but it turned into what Phill used to call a “self-fulfilling prophesy” and Emma became that drama queen that he so often said she was. (And on the flip side, Phill became that dumb-as-a-box-of-rocks-dad that Emma always claimed he was.)

Mother’s Day was usually a quiet holiday in our home. We didn’t do big exciting gifts. Phill might get me some flowers and take Emma out to get me a small gift. That was fine. It was more the attention from Emma, when she was little, that made it a special day. She would hug me multiple times in a day and tell me “Happy Mother’s Day” over and over again. That was what made is special. Or just doing something together was what made it special. Phill might cook me dinner, and do the clean up, and that was a nice treat as well.

I was pretty disappointed in my 2016 Mother’s Day. Emma wanted to play for the Mother’s Day Fashion show after church. She loved all the attention she got for playing the piano, and that was fine. All I had asked for was that afterwards, we have an afternoon at Ft. Yargo, the local state park. I didn’t assume I would have to spell it out, but what I’d meant was a hike and a cookout at the park. For whatever reason, Phill was particularly dense and didn’t bother to get things together for the cookout, and Emma was sulky and sullen, a total non-joy for the afternoon, although at times, she’d put on her fakey smile and pretend like she was enjoying the day. My mother’s day gift from Emma was some candy from the dollar store. No thought or effort involved. I don’t think Emma even got or made me a card that year. Yep, definitely not a banner day.

If you have teenagers, you know how self-centered they can be, and I sure felt like an afterthought, but I knew that was typical for a kid Emma’s age. Occasionally, she could be so sweet and thoughtful, and then on a special day like Mother’s Day, Emma went to absolutely no trouble at all. I was disappointed, but thought that was a typical teen. There were other times, when Emma did something special for me, or was out and brought me home a little something when she was out, which showed me she did think of me, or did appreciate me. One of the sweetest things Emma ever did was to be nice to me when I had a migraine.

I suffered from migraines for years and would go lie in the darkened bedroom with the pillow over my eyes, and Emma would come in and hold my hand and always want to make me a cup of tea. Often times, I was nauseated and really didn’t want the tea, but Emma loved to do it for me, so I took it and thanked her and sipped on it. It was those things she did with love that meant so much to me.

Mother’s Day is difficult for a lot of women, and men too. Some people have lost their mothers. Some couples struggle with infertility and don’t know if they will every be parents. Some mothers have children far away in the military, or in prison, or just far away in another country. And many mothers have children like Emma, who are estranged or mentally ill or on drugs. The internet makes the world a very small place, and I’ve found that many mothers (and fathers) are dealing with the same thing that I have endured for the last 7 years.

I’m sorry Emma has turned out like she has, but I still had the joy of being a mother. The first few years were amazing. How I adored my precious little girl. When she was a baby, it seemed like whatever I did, I did with her in my arms or on my hip. When she was preschool age, I was still the one she wanted to help her with things or to kiss her boo-boos. It’s funny how you go from being that “My mom can do anything” kind of mom to the “My mom is so stupid” kind of mom in the blink of an eye.

In Emma’s case, I think homeschooling was a mistake. Someone pointed out to me that Phill and I didn’t want to see that there was a problem with Emma, and we didn’t realize how much she lied. This person mentioned that other kids would have caught on to Emma pretty quickly and she wouldn’t have been able to pull off a lot of the lies that she did. Kids her own age would have been a lot more savvy than her parents who were blinded by the love for their daughter. Of course, that has also made me wonder if it could have made Emma even worse, and maybe she would have turned into an even better liar had she attended school and been around other kids, some of who were probably just as devious as our sweet Emma.

But, for some people, homeschooling is amazing, and I did get to see some glimpses of that. It was amazing to see Emma grow and learn, and when she really was interested in a topic, seeing her research it on her own. Homeschooling sort of opened up the world to teach one that we are learning all the time, not just until 2:45 when school lets out.

I know for some kids, pulling away is normal. Just before going off to college, kids can be so obnoxious and unpleasant, that the parents want them to go away, and it helps the kids to break away and become more independent. Of course, most kids don’t go to the extreme that Emma did, lying about sexual abuse, accusing a priest, making up stories about a fake suicide attempt, lying about a friend’s mother’s illness, lying about her own mother…

I was reading some books recently and wondering if Emma had read them. We used to have a lot of good discussions about books. I miss that. Other times, I think how I was that boring “mom” and I was just a mom, the lowest of the low in Emma’s eyes. I’m lucky now that I have job I like, and working with the public, I definitely acquire some stories about work, and I miss being able to tell Emma about things, like when I worked at Master’s Academy and we would talk about our classes. Sometimes something will happen at work and I’ll think that instead of that boring introverted mother, Emma might actually think I was cool, and maybe now she wouldn’t look down on her ol’ boring mother. I wish we could talk and I could hear about her job selling insurance. How did she choose to go into this field? It’s a long way from the pediatrician my little girl wanted to become, not that that’s a bad thing. Most of us don’t choose our career when we’re in the 2nd grade. I would love to know how Emma became an insurance agent? Did she finish college or does she plan on it? I’m assuming Tyler is working on his Master’s, only because I’d always heard that you couldn’t really do much with a B.S. Architecture, even from a school like Notre Dame.  Does Emma like her job?  She does have the personality to make a good salesperson, I think.  I would think all her drama classes would contribute to convincing people to buy insurance too.

I was also thinking lately about how lucky I am that at least I know Emma is not alone out in California. She is married and with Tyler, so it does give me some comfort knowing my daughter is not in this big bad world all alone. I’ve known several people who are or were the parents of addicts and often (sometimes for years) had no idea where their children were or if they were even alive. As bad as this whole experience has been, I know it could be worse. At least I know Emma’s safe and not living on the streets somewhere.

So, for all you Mothers out there who are the parents of those “nightmare children,” just know that you are not alone. We may life in the shadows, because we have that child that we can’t brag about, and we are that mom that no one wants to be, but we are still moms, and just because our baby has taken a very bad turn, they are still our baby. Some kids will turn their lives around, and give their mom that happy ending. Others will go on whatever destructive path they have chosen, and they may have broken your heart, but you’ve survived. We mothers are a tough bunch.

Collateral

Lots of Love to you, dear readers. You can contact me through the website or e-mail me at losingemma@gmail.com

 

 

You Can’t Make This Stuff Up

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If you are new to this blog, you may want to read the posts “In a Nutshell” or go to July 2012 and read “Sending out a Letter.” My daughter Emma Katherine Roey, now Emma Buchheim, lied about a friend being raped and attempting suicide, claimed to have been molested by a priest, and then, just as her attorneys were about to file a law suit, Emma accused her mother (me) of physically abusing her and later of poisoning her with DDT. Emma claimed to have a toxicology report to confirm that her mother (me, again!) poisoned her, but would never turn over this report to my attorney. If you read through the blog, you will find many other examples of Emma’s lying. At one point, she even complained about the way her dad touched her and that he called her a “bitch” and a “slut” everyday. (I refused to listen to her when she talked about her dad like that.) As long as Emma continues with the lies, I will tell her story.  Emma and her husband, Tyler Buchheim now live in California where Emma has a career in, ummmmm, sales.  Love and thanks to all of you who read and have written to me. If you have any questions or comments, please contact me at: losingemma@gmail.com Please continue to share the blog with others.

 

Thank you Emma-fans for your thoughts and encouragement during my move. It has been (and still is) a chore, but I’m getting there. So much to do, but I am thankful to be out of the crazy neighbor situation.

One thing Emma taught me was to take lots of notes on strange situations, and that I did. I will have to transcribe them and write the whole story out, but to give you an idea of what was going on, it started when my 83 year old landlord decided his wife 77 year old wife was having an affair with our 47 year old GAY neighbor.

How does that involve your heroine here? Well, I’m not sure. It started to involve me when Mr. 83 started calling me and coming over to talk to me and complain about Gay Neighbor (GN), his wife, his wife’s friendship with GN, his mariage, etc. I assured Mr. 83 that nothing was going on, but he would not listen. GN was a fine neighbor. I had nothing to complain about. He was quiet and worked at home, so it was nice knowing there was someone keeping an eye on things. We’d all gotten together a few times at GN’s house or at 83’s house, and I thought everyone got along fine. Mrs.77 and I had gone over to GN’s a couple of times for dinner and a movie, but all these events were over the course of a year, so it’s not like we were hanging out with him every night.

Mr. 83 all of a sudden seemed to turn on GN. Mr. 83 has a grown son who is gay, and it didn’t sound like he handled that very well, so GN suspected it was when Mr. 83 realized GN was gay that he began having issues. Things escalated and Mr. 83 went over screaming and threatening to kick GN’s ass, ect., and when Mr. 83 would not leave, GN called the police. All I could think about Mr. 83 was, “You are 83 and you walk with a cane. You are NOT kicking anybody’s ass!”

Somehow, Mr. 83 decided I was involved and told me that I was either too stupid and naive to know what was going on or else I was complicit in his wife’s affair. Huh? He told me that GN was either after his wife sexually or for his (Mr. 83’s money—–I found it interesting that it was HIS money and not THEIR money.)

Mr. 83 wanted to “bust up” the friendship between his wife, GN and me. I asked him what the heck he was talking about as I’d seen GN twice in the previous month, and Mr. 83 went on to complain about all my transgressions such as collecting GN’s mail when he was out of town. I was dumbfounded, but reminded Mr. 83 that I collected HIS mail when he and his wife were out of town, that’s just kind of what neighbors do. Mr. 83 complained that I was more his wife’s friend than his (True, but I did remind Mr. 83 that I would not tolerate it if I thought his wife was behaving badly.), and one of the most bizarre things was when Mr. 83 asked me about GN’s home gym. Did I know GN was building a home gym? How did I know that’s what it was?

stick figure boy exercising with weights

I explained to Mr. 83 that GN was indeed building a home gym because he’d showed me where he was painting and the industrial carpeting he was putting down in the room, and I saw with my own two eyeballs, the box that said “Home Gym” on it.

Then, Mr. 83 explained to me that GN was not building a home gym, but had a SEX ROOM. (You can’t make this stuff up.) Ok, so being a boring basic white bread kind of girl, at first I had no idea what Mr. 83 was talking about. Two days later, the whole thing seemed pretty funny, but it was not funny sitting there, for almost an hour, listening to Mr. 83 go on and on because I was too polite to say, “Ok. You’ve evicted me. You can leave now.” The bizarreness of it was like Emma Kate Roey Buchheim all over again. What the heck? I went around for a week dazed by all the craziness. Like Emma, I did not want to see that there was a problem with Mr. 83. He was someone I’d been close to for the past 6 years, and I looked up to him in a fatherly sort of way. It took a while for me to admit there was something very wrong, whether physically or mentally, with Mr. 83, beyond a little jealousy.

Later on, the Mrs., told me that Mr. 83 was carrying his gun back and forth from their other home. Mr. 83 had told me when he was over that was sleeping about 2 hours a night, and his wife told me he was following her around so he could keep a close eye on her. Once, when the Mrs. asked me to help her with something on the computer, I went over, and Mr. 83 would not leave us alone, and kept coming in the room to check on us. I’d done this kind of thing with the Mrs. many times over the years, and Mr. 83 had never acted like that before.

Mr. 83 was also calling his wife a whore and a slut, calling me a bitch, and I won’t even mention the gay slurs he was calling GN. I began sleeping with a chair under the doorknob so that someone would not be able to get into my house easily.

Mr. 83 even had an attorney write a letter threatening to sue GN for things like the dissolution of his marriage, and colluding with his wife to murder him, but the letter stated Mr. 83 was willing to settle thing amicably for a quarter of a million dollars. Funny thing was, at the time he sent the letter, he was still married, so it really seemed as though Mr. 83 was attempting to blackmail GN, but that’s just my Legal-for-Dummies opinion.

Oh, and if you’re wondering about the “murder” part, the Mrs. had sent GN a text that she was going to “shoot” (I may be confused about the wording, but I think it was “shoot”) Mr. 83. The Mrs. says she’s going to “shoot” anyone anytime she gets annoyed. We are great friends, but I’m sure she has wanted to “shoot” me at times. Mr. 83 showed me the texts and it was very clear to me that the Mrs. and GN were joking. GN responded something about how he told her not do do it unless she had a cart so she could dump the body in the well. Reading through the texts, it was very clear to me that the two were joking, and I explained that to Mr. 83 when he showed me the texts, but he would not hear it. He believed they were conspiring to murder him.

well

On April 1, there was an altercation and the Mrs. left Mr. 83 at about 3AM. Mr. 83 fell down in the driveway chasing after Mrs. 77, and went to the hospital the following day claiming that Mrs. 77 had run him over.

Meanwhile, yours truly was at work, and the police were calling me, as well as GN, and Mrs. 77. That night, I had to call the police when I got home from work so that an officer could come to the house and interview me. The officer told me about his interview with Mr. 83 which was actually pretty amusing, and he also told me that there would be no charges brought against the Mrs. as her story was very consistent. Mr. 83’s story, however, was not.

There’s more, but I think you get the gist of it. It was one crazy thing after another, not to mention the tree falling on Mr. 83’s house and pretty much totaling it. (GN suggested this might be Karma, and I have to wonder about that myself.) Mr. 83 sent me emails, and threatened to turn of the power to the home I was renting. (After reading about how much judges dislike landlords who do this sort of thing, I almost wish he had!) The night before the tree fell on their house, Mrs. 77 told me not to rush into moving. She had been to see a couple of attorneys, so I guess she knew it would take time to sort out, but once the tree made their house uninhabitable, she didn’t say another word. Mr. 83 was chomping at the bit to get me to move because he wanted to move into my house so he could “supervise” the work that would be done rebuilding his home. During the time Mr. 83 wanted me to move so badly, he seemed to forget all about GN, like maybe he could only focus on what seemed to me as one obsession at a time.

Now, I’m in a quiet neighborhood, and I’m not even sure I want to meet my neighbors! I think I will just wave from across the road. That’s enough for me.

I may have made some mistakes with my purchase. I was getting panicked about wanting to move away from the whole crazy neighbor situation, and I may have rushed into it and not thought some things through, but it’s done now, and another thing Emma has taught me is that happiness is a choice, and I’m going to be happy where I am.

The sad thing is, Mr. 83 was a great neighbor for 6 years and someone I looked up to and admired. He was hard working, and when he was younger, juggled 2 or 3 jobs. I tried to suggest that Mr. 83 might need a complete physical evaluation, and several people have made other suggestions such as dementia, TIA’s, etc causing this behavior change in Mr. 83, but I have no power to force Mr. 83 to see a doctor, and right now, even though I’m concerned and I still care about Mr. 83, I’m relieved to be out of there. Just like Emma, there were signs I missed that something wasn’t right with Mr. 83. I guess when you feel close to someone, you just don’t want to see that there is something wrong. Maybe if I were a trained professional like all of Emma’s multiple therapists, I would have caught on sooner. (Suzie McGarvey, Dr. Genie Burnett (Dr. Elizabeth Genie Burnett), Dr. Richard Born (Rich Born), etc. Thank goodness Emma is in sales and isn’t in the counseling field yet. I just don’t think that is the right career for my girl.

The funny thing is, Mr. 83 got what he wanted. After GN had to call the police on Mr. 83 back in Jan., he decided, although he thought the Mrs. was a wonderful friend, that it would be easier if he just didn’t have anything to do with either one of them. (And he didn’t even call the police when Mr. 83 broke into his garage without his permission.) Mrs. 77 left her husband on April 1, and at that point, GN hadn’t spoken to either of them since Jan. Then, Mr. 83 got rid of me, so now he’s sitting over there in the little house that I rented, with the French doors that look out on GN’s house. Mr. 83 got what he wanted, but I don’t think it turned out quite like he planned.

tree on house

Anyway, Emma-fans, I look forward to getting settled and getting back to telling Emma’s story. Thanks for your love and support. Write me anytime at: losingemma@gmail.com