So many of my childhood summer memories are painted in golden hues. Catching fireflies, campfires, the sun setting behind my grandparents’ lake house, the bright yellow shag carpet in our “midcentury modern” living room.
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As I sat on those steps, I could feel a shift in the air. The seasons were changing, and it made me wonder if the same could be true for my own.
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6:30 p.m... the phone rings. It’s Jarod. “Mom? Hey, so we’re both ok, everyone’s fine… but we were in a wreck…”
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Yesterday afternoon, I sat with a dear friend on my front porch, sharing a slice of leftover birthday cake, while she expressed the heartache and frustrations that come with
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These days are not what I expected they would be. They are both harder and better. More chaotic and more satisfying. I thought the tired-eyed, fuzzy-headed, new mom thing would have worn off by now, but it hasn’t.
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