I read When It Happens to You by Molly Ringwald, The End of Your Life Book Club by Will Schwalbe, The Longest Way Home by Andrew McCarthy, a lot of Billy Collins poetry, and Magical Journey by Katrina Kenison.
We spent Thanksgiving with my parents and 20+ members of my father’s family. Pops’ absence was felt keenly. We have lost our patriarch.
We returned to the cold, empty beach that we’ve come to love for a couple of gorgeous, crystal clear, chilly hours.
There are several joyful playground outings, and one adventure to MIT where we wander down the infinite corridor.
Grace and Whit really enjoy one Saturday morning at a local food pantry; we commit to spending time doing that more often.
Our kitchen table is overtaken by two matching Lego advent calendars (one Star Wars, one Friends).
Our holiday traditions swing into full force, and their familiar cadence is a comfort and joy to us all.
My favorite blog post: Comfort in the Darkest Season
I’ll tell you a secret: poems hide.
In the bottoms of our shoes, they are sleeping.
They are the shadows drifting across our ceilings the moment before we wake up.
What we have to do is live in a way that lets us find them.
– Naomi Shihab Nye
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