We ate pumpkin seeds in a Ford Taurus as it sped along I-80. Food in my dad’s nice car — leather seats and built in GPS before iPhones and GoogleMaps were zygotes in the mind of Steve Jobs — was a treat, even as a newly-minted adult.
Read moreThe Pink House Dream
No one thinks to buy a pink house. It isn’t even all that pink. It’s just the shade of the brick-like sandstones sourced from the Kansas Flint Hills: a bumpy façade of taupe turning to mauve, burnt red fading into sand. No one brick is the same...
Read moreFor Mamas of Littles: It gets better
Never was there a more sentimental rabbit hole than the new Facebook app, On This Day. To prove it's addictiveness, because it is "not yet available" to all users, I regularly sign on to my husband's page to fall down it. On this day in 2011, a naked...
Read moreThese are the shortest days, the sweetest days
I told myself I couldn't close out another week without actually writing something. December is our busiest month, with Christmas cards and class plays and parents association meetings and a good deal of work thrown into the mix. Writing seems to take a backseat...
Read moreDon't be afraid, girl
Photo Credit: rolands.lakis via Compfight cc
I remember this age. Even now, I can see you.
You’re sitting on the slant of the roof. A dormer window allows you a bit of freedom, a smidge of rebellion. You have the attic mostly to yourself, a gift from the men of your church who spent sweaty August hours converting the space. You take pride in decorating it, setting up a desk, putting a calendar on the wall and creating soft light with a little white lamp. You sit and pick up the pen, one of those silvery blue ones with a fuzzy ball at the end, and you open the book.
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