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The Last Day
The product of my rushed suburban childhood is arm-in-arm in that sandy crop of kids, traditionally appreciating the last day of school in their little lake town …where the busiest road has a 35 mph speed limit, and we can count the number of stop lights on one hand. “Rush” is absent from their vocabulary.…
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The Push
The school year is over, and I’m predictably about to cry at any given moment. Guilty of over-celebrating every moment of my daughter’s lives, they wake up on the last day of school to ballooned rooms and streamers decking out the doorway. The only way I’ve found get through the annual commencement on to the next…
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The Audience
“Sorry!” My oldest called out as she sent her Daddy’s peg flying off the game-board. “What?!?” he retorted, “You just broke your own rule!” My little one lined up a teeny tiny animal audience as they argued. The table melted down into assigning blame, hurt feelings, and an unfinished game. It’s impossible to declare the…
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The Zipper
How can I be certain genuine sensitivity is zipped into the teeth of my self-conscious mind’s motives? I don’t want my insecurities to jam my kids’ jackets. But that’s exactly what happens when I fail to spin inward. Selfish instincts fuel trauma. Before I speak my mind in witness to my children, I SIFT, hoping…
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The “Yes” Shoes
He will straighten our stride, in His time, when we lace up our “yes” shoes. It seems my daughter thinks her shoes will magically jump onto her feet if she stares at them long enough. When they don’t, her shoes fly over the foyer in frustration. And, oh …the agony …when a pair no longer…
Sunny&80 