A conversation with . . . Jennifer?
Find me over at my colleague Denise Schipani’s blog today. The conversation may be with me but you can imagine who we’re talking about!
Find me over at my colleague Denise Schipani’s blog today. The conversation may be with me but you can imagine who we’re talking about!
I am doing an in-person interview because the editor who has hired me to write the piece I’m working on prefers her writers to do in-person interviews. This is important only because while I understand the point—it helps build rapport with someone you are about to ask a bunch of very personal questions—I am thinking…
I don’t know how my daughter’s memory works. She doesn’t remember much about the winter she was seven, which experience has been scarred into my soul (“How can you not remember that!” is how it feels to me). She doesn’t remember the day camp teacher who saw her every day of every summer for four years,…
I wrote this essay about five years ago, and reading it today, realized how much it still captures who Jessica is and what my life with her is like. I hope you enjoy — My eight-year-old daughter Jessica is a friendly soul. From the time she was tiny, she would march right up to strangers…
Jess has the conversational style of an investigative journalist. “It’s a nice day,” I’ll say, and she’ll respond, “What makes you say that?” I’ll point to the blue sky, and the shining sun, and she’ll nod, accepting the evidence I have presented. “This is a great song,” I’ll say, but it’s not enough to express…
Sometimes I hear the echo of my son’s laughter. I never bore a son; I should have, but I had a miscarriage. He was a twin to my daughter, and it is a loss no one acknowledged at the time because everyone was focused on trying to save Jessica. I can only grieve it years…
A friend of mine has been diagnosed with one of those diseases that could kill him in a month or it might hold off for a while. Understandably he has been thrown by this, the uncertainty as much as the diagnosis. How do you live when you know the end is coming, but you don’t…