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Initially, my instructions were, “don’t fill your boots with water.” I say this to my daughter as she rolls a Tonka truck toward an irresistible puddle and eyes me — sizing up how much she’ll get away with. It’s cute, isn’t it, how I’ve been a mother for almost nine years, and I still think
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I run through rows of corn taller than my twelve-year-old frame. The fuzzy, prickly stalks pull at my arms and legs and, occasionally slice like a paper cut into my skin. Somewhere, deep within the tidy rows, a bare circle of ground hides like an accidental fort…that magical spot where the tractor turned around and
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I am up at 1:00 am to the sound of my daughter coughing. I find her stumbling, half-asleep toward my bedroom. She’s scooped into my arms and placed quietly back into bed. A hand to her forehead, then a thermometer. The fever pulsing through her body for nearly a week fights on. I stumble downstairs,
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In my chair, in a snug corner of the living room, I watch a flawless fall day unfold out the window. My view – tidy rows of little colonial townhouses and fluffy clouds against a brilliant blue sky. The leaves blush, submitting to the cool air in a transformation to golden ends. We’re here. We
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This is our last summer in the small Massachusetts town we love. Come fall, we’ll hand the keys to someone else and start a new journey in Connecticut. Until then, we spend these perfect warm-weather days soaking up our favorite places and traditions around town. From evening walks around the town common ending with a
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Thirteen years ago today, I stood in a wheat field and married my husband. Today, Darren is at work and I’m home with our kids. I’ve spent the day putting away laundry, washing dishes, and cleaning up an unreal amount of glue from a rogue craft project. It’s just an ordinary day. Out of the
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I always get up early hoping for a few quiet minutes before my children wake up. I’m usually successful at the waking up early part but rarely successful at the getting ahead of my kids part. They fully endorse Anna’s words in Frozen: “The sun’s awake so I’m awake.” And so they are, every morning at
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I miss writing and telling stories. The last few years really sucked the creative energy out of me and somewhere along the way, I decided I don’t have anything to say — anything worth saying, worth reading, anything that hasn’t already been written or read. Be that as it may, I miss words and stories.
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I realized yesterday that my children just assume I can always hear them. I can be on a different floor on the other side of the house and they will start a conversation with me just the same as if I were sitting across the couch from them. Yelling a conversation through the house does
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The Wheat Princess 