Happy Birthday, Jessica!
For my beautiful daughter —
Thank you for teaching me the meaning of joy.
For my beautiful daughter —
Thank you for teaching me the meaning of joy.
So Jessica is off to be with her father for a few days and though I do not immediately close the door behind her and yell “Yee-haw!” before laying in supplies of 1800, I would be lying if I said I don’t adore having some time and space to myself. I would also be lying if I did…
There is a girl at the coffee shop with her mother. She is ten or eleven, and dressed in the way girls her age dress, with flip-flops on (it is a warm afternoon) and pink polish on her toes. She has a thick book under her arm, held casually in the way that makes…
Jessica’s last day of school is really just a last morning of school, so when I pick her up, the whole day stretches ahead of us. “How about lunch in Lawrence?” I say. “Yes.” She is without hesitation. Jessica is a girl who likes lunch. “Where?” “Let’s go to Encore,” I say. “They have those…
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,…
So. Wow. I wrote “For Jessica” as a way to describe to friends what is happening with my daughter and how I’m feeling about it, since it’s very hard for me to talk about it. Then I shared the link on Twitter and Facebook. Of the few hundred people to whom I’m linked by…
I’m shopping for shoes with my daughter Jessica, who is now twenty-six and tall and thin. Sometimes I can’t get over how beautiful she is. I’m not talking about her physical appearance, though of course being her mother I think she’s the fairest in all the land. But what I’m actually talking about is the…