(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
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
What was Jim doing when it happened? Was he sleeping? He ran every day…was it on a run? Playing guitar? He’d been sanding the ancient wood floors of our small Oak Park bungalow. Did it happen then? Was he on the Metra train headed to work in Chicago’s loop? On the outside, life was normal.