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I’ve had a hard time finding words lately, or finding time for words perhaps. My husband says that what I need is some good old “normal,” but I look at him wryly wondering what exactly normal might be. Anyway, there are days, you know, when the...
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We inherited several gallon-sized bags of blueberries when my in-laws sold their house and moved to Florida. I like to think that they were handpicked by my mother-in-law some time ago, back before the brain tumor and multiple surgeries left her partially...
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(This morning I escorted four children over sheets of snow, sleet and ice so that two of them could attend school since it just happened to NOT BE CANCELED for once. When I got back home, I felt like I deserved a medal and . . . thus was born the concept of The...
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In the morning, after the twins chug their milk and the heavy wet diapers of the night before are deposited in the already overflowing trash, I sit in the corner of the couch with Isaiah to look at a book. We flip through the pages of a National Geographic...
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We didn’t get around to Christmas cards this year, but come January, when the real depth and breadth of winter set it, I started making paper Cardinals. They made me happy in the same tangible, heart-happy way playing the Ukulele does. The crimson card...
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He stood on one side of the wide doorway, between the cafeteria and cafe, and I sat on the other with my twin boys. An old man, he was drawn in by my little boys’ antics, “Sweet,” he called them. Right there he opened the story of his life, his...
