The first thing I did when I found out I was pregnant, twenty-five years ago this winter, was get in…
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parenting journey
The parenting road doesn’t end, it just changes, until you look back and marvel at the distances covered and the transformations that occurred along the way. Newborns turn into kids with skinned knees, adolescents become college students far from home, and one day a grown son pulls out his credit card and offers to buy you dinner. I wouldn’t have traded any of it, not even the sleepless nights. Writing is a way of remembering. Read more about my parenting journey, or browse the archive of stories below.
Full circle
Times Square, New York City, early on a Sunday morning, summer 1996. The day before, we’d taken our son Henry,…
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Ready for Air–and a give-away
It wasn’t lost on me that I read Kate Hopper’s lovely memoir, Ready for Air, earlier this month, while in…
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This is 55
I’ve been fifty-five for a little over a week now. Rounding this corner, finding myself squarely in the long-shadowed afternoon…
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September afternoon
A Saturday afternoon in September, the last of them. Where the air leaves off and my skin begins, I can’t…
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Time in a bottle
I spent most of yesterday morning in the kitchen with my son Jack, windows open to the September air. In ten…
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