Until recently, flowers never spoke to me; certainly not the way they spoke to my grandmother.
There’s something we all want — a living connection of compassion.
Reflecting on life in a place where it’s somehow 30 years ago as much as it’s today.
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.