My Dad, in his favorite sweatshirt, with me walking on the beach years ago.
I was rooting around in my closet a few nights ago looking for a jacket to wear because, joy of joys, it’s finally cool in the evenings here. As I slid clothes along the wooden rod in my tiny closet, I spotted my dad’s favorite green sweatshirt.
He loved that sweatshirt and used to wear it all the time — really — I mean ALL the time. If you didn’t take it off of him and demand to wash it, he would have never removed it Continue reading
My dad was never one of those “I love you” guys. He was affectionate, gave me hugs and the occasional kiss on the cheek, but those words never left his lips when I was young. Continue reading
Not every Christmas gift has to be one a child craves… some can be symbolic, like the one I just left under the tree for both my kids.
My daughter was having a crisis of confidence a few weeks ago, before finals and holidays. She burst into tears over an avalanche of schoolwork she put off, and put off, until it became overwhelming. She didn’t want to tell me because she thought I’d be angry, which I was, but I tried not to show it.
It doesn’t matter how many times a parent interrogates or cajoles (and believe me, I did both) some kids are just procrastinators. Continue reading