I try, try to be kind and loving, but I’m so resentful sometimes. Just when I think I’m free from a resentment, another one grows like a poison mushroom. Nursing a few resentments now, I’m beginning to think I like them. Resentment is a strange kind of fuel. You can keep one simmering for years
Continue reading...
Kindness is a superfood. Berries, nuts and leafy greens can’t compete with the instant boost that being kind gives you. The health benefits of being kind include an ability to lower blood pressure and boost levels of serotonin and dopamine in your brain. I’m surprised doctors don’t include practicing kindness in every prescription. Yesterday, I
Continue reading...
My son Matt and I exchange a gratitude list every day. At sunrise I’m in my rocker with a mug of coffee topped with a deep layer of white foam. Wrapped in a soft pink robe and fuzzy socks, I wait for the sun to slip over the edge of the earth. As it ascends,
Continue reading...
We never lose our power. Some of us misplace it or believe it’s diminished over time. We may not seem the same on the surface, and we may develop gnarly habits. But our power is always with us. The truth is we’re the same person we were at 12. Life weakens and fortifies us. We
Continue reading...
Aunt Kay hugging Matt and Emma
Continue reading...
The sun is my best friend. I miss mornings in the window seat of our old kitchen where southern light bathed the room. Ceramic bowls shined like actors under stage lights and peaches glowed like deities. Living in a condo facing north now, planet earth kidnaps the sun in September and returns her in March. So
Continue reading...
With a high ponytail, a pressed white coat, and a clipboard. This is how I imagine my daughter Emma. She’s standing in an exam room, a friendly physician assistant, but I can’t talk to her because I’m gone. Dead. The thought is so overwhelming that my mind is ice. In seconds a familiar anxiety tells
Continue reading...
Gift from the Sea, by Anne Morrow Lindbergh, is a memorable book. I’ve purchased at least a dozen copies over the years. Anne wrote it at the beach where she went to reflect on the patterns and meaning of her life. It’s one of those books that stays with you because it’s layered throughout with
Continue reading...
My mom cooked with no directions and fancy ingredients we couldn’t afford. She liked to finish a dish with a bottle of red wine aimed at the pot and and tilted in a carefree pour. For the most part things turned out OK except when she made my school lunch. Her idea of a good
Continue reading...
This week, rain dripped from gutters with the steady pace of a metronome. It was soothing but also slightly sinister like the rhythm in an Alfred Hitchcock film just before the murder. Under the charcoal rubbed sky, trees were black and arthritic with branches bent in pain, and the grass was drowning. Far worse, the
Continue reading...