Author: James Thebarge

Insight often arrives like a sudden shaft of sunlight breaking through a storm cloud. It is blinding, unexpected, and impossible to ignore. Gary Klein calls it “seeing what others don’t,” but in truth, it is more like feeling what others have forgotten how to feel. In the quiet corridors of a hospital, where fluorescent lights… Continue reading Seeing With More Than Eyes

The hallway smelled faintly of lemon furniture polish and warm soup drifting from the kitchen down the corridor. Quinn’s nails clicked gently against the tiled floor, a rhythm that always announced our arrival before we rounded the corner. His blue bandanna, bright against his golden fur, caught the overhead light as if carrying its own… Continue reading Don’t Wait

I can feel the softness of my blanket under me, the one that smells like sunshine and you. The house is quiet. The curtains move with the breeze, and I can hear the birds outside, singing like they always do. This is where I belong. Home. With you. My body is tired now. It does… Continue reading The Last Gift

The boy sat in his room, knees tucked tight to his chest, listening to the weight of footsteps in the hall. The air seemed to change before his father entered, heavy, charged, like a storm pressing against the windows. His father’s voice carried the edge of someone always on the verge of breaking, loud and… Continue reading The Hidden Eye

The hallway smelled faintly of cleaning solution and antiseptic, a mixture of comfort and sterility that only hospice wings seem to carry. Quinn walked beside me, his blue bandana brushing softly against his golden fur, his steps light yet steady, as though he understood the sacredness of where we were. We entered the room quietly.… Continue reading Necessary Endings

Most people carry an inner critic.A sharp voice, made of shadows, whispering at the edges of thought. It tells them they are not enough, that they fall short, that they do not deserve the light. But not me. I do not carry an inner critic. I carry an inner dog. Close your eyes and step… Continue reading My Inner Dog

They say there is a hidden bridge, one not made of stone or steel, but of pure light. It rises in colors no painter could ever capture, glowing brighter than dawn yet softer than moonlight. It arches between two worlds, joining the place we leave behind with the place where eternity begins. Across this bridge… Continue reading The Bridge of Light

It began like a dream, though it felt more real than waking life. There was a silence so deep that it seemed the universe itself was holding its breath. Before me stretched a bridge, shimmering as if it had been woven from moonlight. Behind me lay the weight of all that had been, and before… Continue reading A Dream So Real

There’s a little book that caught my eye some years ago. It was called How to Hug a Porcupine. The words on the cover stayed with me: easy ways to love the difficult people in your life. The title itself felt like a parable. Isn’t life full of porcupines? People who bristle, lash out, or… Continue reading The Man in the corner

The first time I smelled it, I froze. It was buried deep, hidden beneath the warmth of your skin, the coffee on your breath, the soap from your morning shower. But it was there. A sharpness. A wrongness. A shadow I could not chase away. I pressed my nose into your chest, breathing you in,… Continue reading I knew Before You Did