“Kids… ,” I’d yelled into our playroom on a regular basis when our children were small, “what’s going on in there?!” Usually, I’d heard roughhousing — giggling, knocks against the wall, creaking couch springs, yips and squeals. You’d think the innocent sounds of our children playing would warm our hearts, but as experienced parents, Francis…
Book Review
Is your cup half full or half empty?
My mother, a retired first-grade teacher, has always put a positive spin on things that appeared to be sad, unjust, terrifying or disgusting. I’ve always admired her capacity to see the good in all things, but there are times when this ability seems out of reach. On a mud-splattered, dreary Monday morning in February, my…
Pork Chop Envy
It was another gloomy winter afternoon in our working-class English village. Ever since we’d been stationed at JAC Molesworth in the flat Cambridgeshire countryside know as “The Fens,” I’d found myself counting the minutes until my husband, Francis, got home from work. At that latitude, the sun set around four o’clock, leaving me with nothing…
The Lunch Ladies
My boots were there, sitting next to the front door, a gritty residue of evaporated slush encircling the soles. I would have loved to climb back into bed that morning with Moby our Lab, rather than face my salt-encrusted minivan and an excruciatingly boring To Do list. But I had to get out into the…
