Sixty is not middle-aged. Not even close. Sixty is a reckoning with the truth of mortality, with change, with a…
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Dear Older (Love, Old)
This is the first in a series of letters between me and my friend, author Margaret Roach, on the challenges (and…
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This is 55
I’ve been fifty-five for a little over a week now. Rounding this corner, finding myself squarely in the long-shadowed afternoon…
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Time in a bottle
I spent most of yesterday morning in the kitchen with my son Jack, windows open to the September air. In ten…
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Peonies
The peonies at our house bloomed this week, bursting onto the scene with the fanfare of a chorus line. A…
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Thanksgiving
Tomorrow night, for the first time in months, both our boys will be home, everyone sleeping in their own beds…
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