Raising a warrior

My hair stylist is a tough man of few words. But he has opened up as he has gotten to know me. Today, he is a chatterbox. I have just introduced him to the enneagram when this tatted up, ponytailed tough guy tells me he is certain he would be some sort of warrior type….

A barn burner

We absorb what our parents show us, deep in our cells, unknowingly. Even as we fight, as teens, to be anything but them, their love seeps into our bones—the very marrow–changing us. Some of those changes appear as is, others are stored for future us, tempered in our cells with time. It must be hard…

Go figure

My boy has a dream. It is not my dream for him. I had a dream once. It was not my mother’s dream for me. She pushed and she pulled and she prodded to get me to accept her dream. I nearly did. But despite a high LSAT score, I refused to go to law…

I remember flags waving

A week ago, we celebrated Memorial Day in the States. As the daughter of a man who trained as an Air Force navigator and tail gunner in World War II, this was a big day in our house. I try still to keep the spirit of the day in mind. My memories wandered as I…