There are clues, you know. Certain phrases she uses. The way she listens to people without over-identifying. The way she makes mediation look like slicing through soft butter. I’ve come to terms with it: Paul and I are raising a mini school counselor. I mean, I’m totally cool with it. She’s like Paul in a […]Read more "You Might Be Raising a School Counselor"
Truly, I am sorry. I hope you were not in a meeting with your CEO or describing your bowels to the internist or standing still on one foot, clutching your prayer beads, as the scorpion backed away. I hope you were not, with great anticipation of all the feels, consummating your marriage or defending your […]Read more "I’m Sorry My Son FaceTimed You from a Bathroom Stall in Target"
I first heard her say it several weeks ago. She was walking up the last leg of the ramp that leads to our apartment when she sighed and suddenly became an 83-year-old woman: “All the problems…” she said. Sometimes Elie Mae will insert an “it’s” beforehand, as in, “It’s all the problems.” Never does she […]Read more "All The Problems"
Sometimes words are corny or trite until they hit your ears at just the right moment. Become your revelation. Elie Mae likes to watch me cook. She stands on a stool in the kitchen and asks to stir batter or pour water or sprinkle cheese. Monday morning, as she was stirring an ice cube into […]Read more "In Elie’s Words"