Hands held. Driveways shovelled. Laughter shared. A chocolate offered. A gift given. A sacrifice made. A candy bar cut in four pieces. Serious conversation. Meals cooked. Tears. Hugs. Prayers. Clean bath towels in bathrooms. Notes written. Dishes washed. Questions asked. Mincemeat tarts. Vegetables chopped. Ringing bells. A coffee shop. Text messages. Windshield washer fluid poured
Yesterday was my birthday, but we don’t make a big fuss about birthdays around here. “It’s just another day,” I say every year. When I was very young, I felt a certain glow on my birthday, but I’ve had enough of them by now that the sheen has worn off the occasion. There are still
I entered the new year wrung out. Empty. With little desire to tend to start-of-the-year things that ordered my days in the past. So I didn’t. in the morning I got dressed in my “daytime pajamas” and leaned in to the meditation of holding my pup in my arms and piecing a jigsaw puzzle. Hour
Today is our wedding anniversary. Twenty-one years ago today, Gerry and I stood at the front of a small church and vowed to love one another through good and less-than-good times. One might look at these days as a batch of those not so good ones. But, you know, we’ve got good food in our