Another Writer’s Lament

When the artistic director of the company I danced with for several seasons was displeased with how we were performing her choreography, she would scream at us across the studio,

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The Cycle of Life

We’d just finished a deliciously decadent Thanksgiving dinner, the first my younger son and his family had hosted, when my son held up the candle at our table and announced

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“Thankfuls” Trump the “Un-thankfuls”

When our sons were growing up, we used to have a tradition of passing a candle around the Sunday night dinner table and sharing what we felt thankful for. When it was his turn, our then seven year old piped up with, “Let me start with my un-thankfuls.” 

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Grieving

Forget all that “time to move on and heal our differences” stuff. Maybe I’ll get there, but after Tuesday’s stunning presidential election, I sure haven’t arrived at that place.

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Can’t Not Look

Eager to get to the university on one of my teaching days, I left the house early—only to find myself sitting in stalled traffic on the interstate for 45 minutes. Sirens screamed, and ambulances roared by. 

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Feeling Sad

Yesterday morning, my older son’s stepmother and my ex-husband’s beloved wife, died. Last week in “Still Family,” I wrote

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