A few years ago, I packed all my child-raising books into shopping bags and delivered them to the used bookstore. It didn’t mean my mothering days were over, of course, but I figured that from here on out I should be able to manage on my own. My sons were young adults, after all, our struggles over bedtimes and screen time and green vegetables and messy rooms were already ancient history. We were forging new relationships with each other – complicated, yes, but I couldn’t imagine ever again turning to an “expert” for advice on how to get along with…
I suspect I’m not the only one feeling a little wary and vulnerable in my skin these days. A week after the Boston bombings, as people across the nation paused yesterday afternoon to observe a moment of silence at 2:50, I stood alone in my own quiet kitchen, sad and somewhat at a loss for what to do next. There is so much in my life to be grateful for. No one I know was injured last week. All my loved ones are fine. Nothing visible in my world has changed. And yet, I find myself blinking back tears at…
“If the only prayer you ever say in your entire life is thank you, it will be enough.” – Meister Eckhart “Thank you.” Maybe these words really are enough. Certainly “Thank you” is the phrase on my lips today, the emotion overflowing in my heart, the words I want to say to you, the prayer of gratitude I offer up to the universe. To every single fellow traveler, to everyone who’s read Magical Journey and shared it with a friend, I offer a huge springtime bouquet of thank you’s. Here’s what we’re creating together: *Attention!…
I’ve sometimes wondered if I’ll spend the rest of my life missing my sons as the little boys they used to be. Even now, though it’s been years since I reminded anyone to look both ways, the sight of a mom crossing the street hand-in-hand with a little guy with sleep-tufted hair and rolled up jeans fills my eyes with sudden, unbidden tears. Arriving at an elementary school to give a talk one morning not long ago, watching parents bending low to kiss their children good-bye, observing the sea of bobbing backpacks, the bright art on the walls, the exuberance…
February 21, 2013 – 11:52 am
A mother’s midlife memoir paired with a gardening book? What, you might well ask, could these two volumes possibly have in common? And why would a married mom of two and a resolutely single, encyclopedically knowledgeable, former-Martha-Stewart-publishing-executive-turned-rural-hermit ever become writing partners, let alone dear friends? Well, if age teaches us anything, it’s that life is full of surprises – and that the relationships that bloom and blossom in the langorous afternoon of life are often quite different from those of its bright morning. No longer bound to our friends by social stratifications, proximity, or the shared duties of parenthood,…
