Sitting at the park, with Marian, my friend, I’m struggling with my purse, plunging into her depths, pulling strange things out like grimy food laden forks and a boy’s toy; scrounging at the bottom in …[READ MORE]
She is riding what that looks like an extra large, souped-up golf cart. Not fancy, just big. She swerves up on the tree laden path that Matt, my 7 year old, and I are walking …[READ MORE]
The beginning of summer: That time when you feel the sweet release of the year’s busy pace. The sun is shining longer; your schedule doesn’t feel so very tight, you breathe a little deeper, and …[READ MORE]
I loved Keely’s mom for years without even knowing her. Or more aptly, I loved the woman behind the email address [email protected]…..As I’d browse the El Marino yahoo group’s site for memos to room parents, …[READ MORE]
The luminarias that lit up Heather and Art Coombs-Perez’s driveway this past Saturday night sparkled in a way that only something made by a child ever could. Kandinsky, Van Gogh, or Monet, to name but …[READ MORE]
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