It’s 3:58 a.m. and I wake in a startled state.

Did I forget the day? How could I let this slip?

I’m not thinking clearly at this ungodly hour so I begin to track back. He died in February, toward the end of the month. Last Tuesday was Valentine’s Day. I count the days that follow on my fingers until I land on today, February 20.

I am so relieved because I have not missed the day my first husband, Brett, died. It’s tomorrow, February 21, which is the eight-year anniversary.


Surprise! You’ve Been Duped

Scene: 8:30 p.m. The house is silent, kitchen wiped clean. I want to hug the new teenage babysitter.  “Yes, they did everything they were supposed to do, they’re asleep now.”

“So they read aloud for ten minutes and then another fifteen minutes on their own? And Rebecca took the Airborne and Casey trained on his stationary bike?”


A Forgotten Watch Is a Timeless Gift

I am moving slowly today, lethargic and dreary as the snow appears on my back porch.

Maybe it’s because I forgot to wear my watch. I’m out and about for two hours on this snowy Tuesday before I realize my mistake.  And when I see my naked wrist, I am not the least bit fazed, which is unusual for me since I’m usually driven by time.

Right now I hear my friend David’s voice in my ear saying, “there are no coincidences.” David founded Kabbalah Experience, and I studied with him for a few years. Lately I’ve been examining old notes for my memoir, and wouldn’t you know I’ve stumbled upon whole pages about time:


On Food, Faith and Saying YES

How is it that both bad and good things happen in clusters? Three or four “similar” events within a short span of time. I don’t know why this is so, but it’s true. Don’t you agree?


Look High, Stand Tall and See Beyond the Frame’s Edge

Last week, just before bed, my son, Casey, asks, “How do you believe in yourself, Mom?”

Great question, and I love how in the midst of pre-pubescent hormone surges he is still “boy” enough to show his vulnerability.

The answer, of course, is neither straightforward nor prescribed. Time. Maturity. Having a passion. My inner compass. Perspective. Friendships. Success. Life experience. Love. These are all the things I might say, but that a ten-year-old cannot easily grasp. The truth is…the question of how you believe in yourself is intensely personal. What lights my fire might extinguish yours.


The Strength of Our Scars

The other evening I attended a lecture by Jeanette Walls, author of The Glass Castle and Half Broke Horses. You are probably familiar with the story of her dysfunctional childhood: severely burning herself while cooking hot dogs over a stove at three years of age; sleeping in cardboard boxes, rummaging through garbage cans for food; stealing; living in filth amidst cats and wounded vultures; and other terrifying incidents. Hers is a story where the children parent, but somehow, in spite of all the craziness, her parents managed to seed dreams and fantasies in their offspring, enough at least to help Walls and her siblings recast their lives.


Flying Dreams and Living The Life You Want

I can’t remember how the conversation started but in the midst of a family dinner, my sister-in-law’s brother, Eric, began to talk of strange dreams about flying.

“Tell me more,” I asked him.

“They’re so bizarre.  Each night I fly somewhere else.”


Twenty Seconds of Courage

The title of this post is a line from the film, “We Bought A Zoo,” starring Matt Damon and Scarlett Johansson. The movie is inspired by a true story about a widower with two children who takes a leap of faith for the future by buying an ailing zoo complete with a decrepit house. What’s seems impulsive, even crazy, comes to heal and unite this family.