My mingling of Christmas with death and mysticism harkens back to my youth, when Charles Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” was a staple in our home. On holiday breaks from school after playing outside, the sunset came devilishly early. To beat back the darkness and cold, I would lie on the living room carpet by the fireplace and read, hands propped under my chin.
One week of solitude and my epic fail at freedom
So much has been written about making friends as we age, but no one gives you a How To Manual or instructions.
What we mean when we say we miss newsrooms
If my former newsrooms were people I would be attending many funerals. 2,500 newspapers in the United States have closed since 2005. The country will lose one-third of its newspapers by 2025.
Shifting gears: Teaching my autistic daughter to drive
I can tell you the day I discovered freedom because I remember every intoxicating detail of the moment I drove alone for the first time after getting my driver’s license. Now, in what seems like a single heartbeat of time, my daughter is learning to drive.
I Raised My Child in a Shopping Mall
The word “should” is the enemy of all good things. This is what I teach her. When someone says you should do something, question why. Question the value of the person who is telling you that. Question the word should, always.
On the other side of the tornado: 10 years later, we are still broken and also on the mend
I read somewhere that traveling is like coming home a slightly different person than the one who left. I feel the same way about the journey I’ve been on since an EF4 tornado upended my life, just as the earth felt moving below me, a real-world Tilt-A-Whirl as it loosened the foundation of my home.
My adult daughter was diagnosed with autism. It changed everything.
Nothing could prepare me for the unplanned beauty and fear of having an adult child diagnosed with autism.
The Alabama Mothers We Lost in 2018
If anyone wants to know what it feels like to bleed to death, they can ask me.
What it’s like to lose a loved one to gun violence
I peered over my grandfather’s casket, trying desperately to see – and wanting not to see – where the bullet hit his head.
Why having a baby almost killed me: My postpartum nightmare
Almost 14 years after one of the most difficult times in my life, I hope my words might reach someone who feels the same way I did for all of that time. Hope will find you.