(on our 11th wedding anniversary) 1. He crawls into bed each night, pulls the covers up to the bridge of his nose, closes his eyes and lies there on his back in quiet solitude breathing deeply. Then he throws back the covers, turns on his bedside lamp and grabs his book. I call this his
Author: Rachel
I dreamt last night that I watched a mushroom cloud rise up above my city. This is the type of dream I would have had in elementary school, when we were taught to hide under our small wooden desks — the kind with a lid and a compartment underneath which held our books, pencils, papers,
If you listen to either your mother or Tim Ferris, you made your bed shortly after rising. If you did not make your bed upon rising, do the following: First, shake out the prior nights dreams (or nightmares) from the twisted sheets. Second, make the bedding sleek and straight with sheet corners meeting comforter corners. Third
My twins look up at Kyle. They have shy smiles and occasionally duck their heads, cast their eyes down and hunch their shoulders, as they flicker between pride and embarrassment. Julia reaches up and gives a gentle tug of Kyle’s dark blue silk tie. Sean shifts his weight from leg to leg. There is so
Her mother is sobbing next to her. She is in shock, stoic. First in the elevator going down, and then at the curbside waiting for the hospital valet to bring around the station wagon, people come up to her mother to say they will pray for her. They assume it is her mother’s loss, not