Happiness. It's relative.
I hold the baby during dinner. It isn’t hard because I can hold the baby with one hand, she is that little, and eat with the other. Dinner is salmon, rice, and asparagus, and the last of the melon, food for nights holding a… Continue Reading “Held”
Four years ago, I sat in bed on Sunday morning and, in a state of disbelief and incredible gratitude, read my essay in the New York Times. The Times’ editor gave the piece the title, “Fury Cannot Touch Me.” The title seemed overly dramatic… Continue Reading “Finding the Narrow Lane”
Her mouth is crammed with too-big teeth. Several are crooked and overlapping. I want to fix that and other things but it’s not my place. So I focus on what I can control but the circle drawn is nearly too small for me to… Continue Reading “Finding My Place”
The grandmother gig can be a tough one. You can be in the presence of a grandchild who clearly needs a mother more than a grandmother and though you know very well how to be a mother, you can’t be that child’s mother. She… Continue Reading “Reach Back”
Four years ago, I sat in bed on Sunday morning and, in a state of disbelief and incredible gratitude, read my essay in the New York Times. The Times’ editor gave the piece the title, “Fury Cannot Touch Me.” The title seemed overly dramatic… Continue Reading “Finding the Narrow Lane”
I watch from afar. A grandmother does that. But as I watch, I remember the formation of my own family. I remember when my own daughter went from being one to one of many. She was graceful and helpful about it but looking back… Continue Reading “From One to One of Many”
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