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A New Path Is Often Paved with Self-Doubt
Beginnings are hard. I took a birth doula training session last week, and at times, I was acutely aware that I don’t quite fit in. I’m a former litigator. I’m feisty. I’m pragmatic. I’m not opposed to...
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My Mother, My Self
I resisted writing a post in honor of Mother’s Day; I really did. So many others are putting forth such beautiful words, like these and these. Why not leave it to these masterful writers to reveal the...
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A Discarded Desk
We stood together on the stoop, the boys and I, peering out as the trash truck sunk its merciless teeth into my mother’s 50-year-old desk—the one I had used since college and painted pale yellow and...
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Yoga Dropout
Going There I set out on the open road towards Salisbury, Connecticut, reacquainting myself with the Prius. My beloved beast of a minivan—my comfort, my crutch—had to stay at home with the boys. I know...
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