Tag archives: family
Last week I moved from a fairly large house with
a yard and a garage into a one-bedroom hotel suite with a view of the shopping
mall. It’s a temporary downsizing, and maybe that’s why, so far, it feels surprisingly
There is something wonderfully
simple about having only four plates, four bowls and four forks. It takes less
than five minutes to clean up the kitchen—no dishwasher required. Knickknacks
aren’t cluttering the end tables and dresser tops. Getting dressed in the
morning takes little time at all when all of your clothes fit into one ...
Yesterday, I read an amazing post by Megan O’Rourke, whose mother died when she was 32, called
Mother: What I wish I could say.” It is a touching tribute to the little
and big things that we can longer say once someone is gone. It inspired me to
write this post because I am lucky enough to have this day to say some of the
things that I haven’t said.
I hope you’ll share with me the things you want to say to your mother (or whomever),
but more important I hope it inspires you to ...
Ah, Christmas. What other time of year
has more traditions wrapped around it? It seems that as a species, humans
thrive on tradition and as much as we sometimes complain about it, we will
create traditions where there is a hole.
As a child growing up, my Christmases
followed the same rhythm each year. Christmas Eve we went to “the barn,” a live
reenactment of Jesus’s birth in a real barn, sitting on real hay bales next to
sheep and a donkey with members of our church acting out the scenes (I was the
first live baby Jesus). Audience ...
This morning my daughter climbed into
our bed to snuggle, and a tickle monster attack ensued followed by a game of “pillow”
(in which one person wants to sleep and the other is the moving pillow).
These mornings remind me of my
childhood. My brothers and I jumping onto my parents’ bed, my dad heating up
the griddle for pancakes and bacon. I don’t know if this was rare in my
childhood home or if it happened every weekend, but it is a strong memory. I
can nearly smell the syrup. In my memory, childhood weekends consisted of