My mother sees with her heart. And I don’t know of a more beautiful sight than that.
What we all wish for — for ourselves and everyone we love, and not just at Christmastime but always and every day.
Music gave us identity. What we listened to told us who we were. And we needed that.
We didn’t call it customer service. Instead, it was, simply, kindness.
Everything was brand new. A time to start over. This was our chance to make a clean break.
I miss those meals. I miss being handed a tray of something, no choices.
Here is July 1: the 182nd day of the year, the halfway point, the midsection of 2014, with 183 days left.
I hope that whatever you’re running toward, it’s a mighty good place.
Don’t you think we come to the beach because we want to stop moving? The road ends, we can’t go any farther, we are forced to stop. To finally be still.