Since my daughter’s school ended, we have been in full summer mode. I open my eyes each morning to bright sunshine pouring through my window. When I look outside, my street is lush and colorful, full of flowers and plastic toys scattered in my neighbors’ yards. In the afternoons, the sky has been such a bright blue… [Read More]
Last winter, my daughter and I visited a local nusery school for a tour. My daughter had just turned two, and I was surprised at how eager she was to explore the classroom on her own. I wrote this essay, “Learning to Let Go” about our visit. It took me over a year to find… [Read More]
One of the biggest challenges I have as a writer is finding the time to write. I spend my days shuttling around my daughter, cleaning up after her, running the household and trying to keep my sanity through all of it. I am very lucky to have several hours most days when I can write… [Read More]
The one constant of motherhood is that it defies expectation. The depth of my love and joy goes much deeper than I could have imagined. At the same time, I am often surprised by the things that are much more difficult than I thought they would be, like my daughter transitioning to nursery school. In… [Read More]
We found each other last summer through Facebook groups and online writing classes: an American mother living in Japan with small children, a humor writer in Texas whose kids were off at college, an essayist in Arizona with an eye for detail and a 10-year-old daughter, an English mother living in Israel with her family and a… [Read More]
I am incredibly blessed to have had my grandparents in my life for the last 37 years. In my most recent essay on Kveller, I write about my beautiful, larger-than-life grandmother, and how I long to teach my daughter about her. Read the essay here.
My daughter and I are out for a walk around the block and her small hand is folded into mine. It is mild for March, and warm when we stand in the sunshine. We linger in these sunny spots on the street, letting the warmth seep into our skin. “Look at those flowers,” I point out to my… [Read More]