This is my 16 year old daughter, Abbie.
When she was brand new to the world, I was responsible for her body—feeding her, bathing her, getting her medical care when she needed it, and all the rest that’s involved in keeping a body healthy.
As she has grown, she has gradually taken over . . . → Read More: A Uterus Is Not a Machine, My Daughter Is Not a Farm Animal, and I Am Not Happy
Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 3.1 (except it’s less of a part and more of an interlude)
We all grow up with rules.
I’m not talking about the regular rules that our parents speak aloud – no running in the house; don’t sing at the dinner table; if you wear your tap . . . → Read More: The Transcendent Familiar 4: Give Yourself Away
On September 13, 2001, I was home alone. I don’t remember why; there should have been kids in the house. Perhaps I wasn’t alone, and the kids were napping? In any case, I was at my desk, doing daycare paperwork, when the phone rang.
The phone had been ringing a great deal. Everyone, it . . . → Read More: The World Is Burning