Category: Memoir
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The Parts We Play
Her slim, veined hand rested in mine, as we sat on the generic floral couch in the wood-trimmed lounge. A piano nearby hinted that Uncle Bob or Aunt Becky might drop by unannounced for a Sunday afternoon visit in the parlor though only a perky nurse-in-training poked her head through the open doorway to be…
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A Real Snow Day
Before digital learning stole our winter joy “Looks like it might snow tonight,” says my husband as he turns to the weather channel. “See that dark blue band? It’s headed right toward us.” He pushes the thick comforter back to the footboard of the king-sized bed. He is never cold; but I’m usually freezing. He…
