The changing of the guard

My thoughts are swirling after spending a day in my childhood home, which is now about to become someone else’s childhood home. My sisters and I spent a day going through the last bits of the life my parents had made. Not technically “the” life, of course. That life died with my parents. But, the…

Born to it

My thoughts keep going to the teacher who read. The teacher who, in the midst of the Sandy Hook Elementary tragedy, locked her door, gathered “her” children into the corner and read. Read to calm them. To calm herself. And hopefully, to give those children something to concentrate on other than the screams and gunshots they…

Don’t mess with the sisterhood

It may have been the projectile vomiting that gave her away. Or perhaps the glassy eyes, flushed cheeks or green goop that constantly seemed to run from her son’s nose. Regardless, she was the bane of our existence. We called her Typhoid Mary. By “we,” I mean a gaggle of mothers, all of us shepherding…