You held my hand last night, Trick or Treating. It wasn’t the clinging, hold-me-please, grip of your sister’s four-year-old hand. And, it wasn’t the don’t-forget-that-I-love-you-Mama, squeeze of Asher. It was a simple sliding of your palm against mine as we walked briskly through the dark, together.… Read More
To My Girls – Now, you are four and eight and as brave and bold as the length of my reach will let you go. You see yourselves as strong, courageous, beautiful and brilliant. You wear what you want. You say what you want. You are who… Read More
I didn’t sleep well last night. You came shuffling into our bedroom in the shadows, a half-asleep, half-awake, sniffling and confused body. You climbed into our bed and snuggled, wrapping your eight year old limbs up around my body. I turned away, you nestled closer.… Read More
I stood in front of her, knelt to her level, eye to eye, for as much as she could look at me. Her eyes darted over my shoulder, down to the floor, back to mine, again and again. Her eyes fluttered, watered, welled up and… Read More
The clock ticked to midnight last night as we drove home, a car full of sleeping, Halloween-sugar-drunk children. The alarm on Vinnie’s phone went off, alerting us to Lila’s Birthday, Location: Princess Land. Is that where we are now? Princess land? There as we through… Read More
Dear Lila: When I die, I want to be holding my two special quarters and be buried with them. And Fluffy Unicorn. And your hands. You said this to me today. It was mid-bath, while I rigorously scrubbed frothy peppermint shampoo in your head. Shampoo… Read More
I’m remembering back to the terrible twos (when I wrote this) and then to the time when everyone told me, Oh, three is WAY worse than two. Then it was, Oh, no, no. It’s FOUR that will get you. Followed by, Five is where the growing… Read More
We bought ice cream today. Royal Banana Split. Three flavors with three toppings, all in one carton. It’s Neapolitan on steroids with chunks and fruit and chocolatey swirls. It smells like an ice cream parlor when you peel back the lid. Shortly after we got… Read More
I remember wooden church pews, wrapping my arm around my mother’s arm and watching her hands as they rested on her lap or turned through the delicate pages of her Bible. I remember holding mine up beside hers and studying the two: large and small,… Read More
