Eight days until Ivan arrives. Twelve days until my marriage. Eighty-two items so far on my list of one thousand gifts. They are like poetry, these gifts: moments dropped like molten crystal, arrested—by mere attention!—a brilliant, sparkling pendant. If I had not seen them, these moments would be nothing special. But I saw them, noticed […]
I have a headache. I am in my pajamas. My hair is uncombed. TMI? Let me just add that I don’t plan to comb or dress at all today if I don’t have to—not until 9:30 p.m. when I will put on a clean scrub and wash my face and arrive to work as a
Grumpy. And Other Random Events of Life. Read More »
Twelve years ago, my baby sister dreamed she would die at age twenty-one. For twelve years she threw herself heart and soul into living—spontaneous, joyful, loving with all her heart—but wondering all along if really, it would happen. This September, she turned twenty-two. The time of the curse is over and gone, the bright leaves
Dad harvested his first three bushels from the apple orchard. Down below the shed in our sloped field, apples still ripen on the three-year-old trees, slim and smooth sided and hung heavy with fruit. Dad planted those trees during the time when he first seriously considered selling the milk cows. By the time the two-year-old
I’ve been writing a lot about broken relationships in the last few blog posts…so much so I think you all are sick of it. Enough of beating that dead horse, I think I hear you saying, Time to move on to new things. Time to write about Ivan. But my relationship with Ivan is still
So You Want to Hear about Ivan Read More »
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