Early one morning, when the air was cool, just as the sun was cresting over the hills to our east, my husband was gesturing wildly from another room — but not saying anything. “What,” I thought, “Is he trying to tell me?” Finally I caught on that he wanted me to come look out the […]
When I was 14 I was invited to a party. The party was going to be at Ann’s house, and while Ann didn’t invite me, Suzanne, who apparently had the authority to invite people to Ann’s house did. I was thrilled. There had been a number of parties involving my junior high classmates, but never was I invited. This was the very first boy-girl party that I could attend. Or so I thought.
Road rash happens. I can accept road rash, even a broken bone, as part of the normal progression toward independent adulthood. And I will do anything, no matter how humiliating, to ensure that they make it to independent adulthood. Sorry guys, I love you too much…and I’m your mother. Deal with it.