“Take the train into the city, Mom. It would be so much easier.” “No,” I insisted. “I like the independence of having my car.” So,
“Can I have a bike for my birthday this year?” A typical, impatient eight-year-old, I must have asked my parents this question a million times.
“Thank you for being here, Mom.” The exhaustion in my daughter’s voice was echoed in her face. The epidural had finally kicked in, and we
The call came just as I was falling into a deep sleep, which didn’t help my mood. Neither my husband nor I recognized the number.
“What would you like to learn about?” “Tell us about your life,” one woman called out. “Well, yes, that,” the tiny woman responded, “but there’s
Happy Birthday, Dad. You would have been 88 today. I miss you today, Dad. I miss your wisdom; I could use some right now. I don’t