The elastic was stretched thin on the worn red cotton gingerbread-printed pajama pants. My second-hand find from years ago slipped dangerously low despite my bread-and-sugar belly. The chickens never seemed bothered by my fashion sense; they fluttered to greet me that morning as I delivered their feed. “I like your pants.” My little son’s words jolted me out of my morning reverie wherein I was actually having coffee in an actual coffee shop with one of my actual friends. He h

I would always have someone with me, and I would never be lonely, not ever again. At twenty-four, and I was about to have my first baby. Early Motherhood, though inherently challenging, treated me gently. It had been my deepest wish, to become a mother. With my new mom friends, I passed idle days walking to the Chocolate Moon for coffee, nursing my tiny sons, washing diapers, and learning to make wildflower jelly. It’s just not that simple anymore. It seemed a good idea to si

Monday had a promising start: the sun shone brightly, and I had a few minutes to spare before I would be meeting my longtime friend, so I stopped at the post office. Two pairs of ladies occupied the lobby in front of me; both sets engaged in separate conversations. The first pair consisted of the very pleasant post office clerk and a vibrant middle-aged customer whose hair was tied in a floral bandanna and whose presence radiated some sort of energy that (I inferred from my u

As a fresh spring chicken of a foster parent, I was given by one of my dearest friends a candy-pink shirt with the words, “Love is Not Enough” boldly stated for all to see. This puzzled me just a bit. “Hmm…we’ll see”, I thought to myself, as I wore it with pride. That was about fifteen years ago. Love, most definitely, is not enough. Sometimes, I truly feel that I may have learned more about things through unfortunate experience than the professionals to whom I have brought m

The purple couch was like an old friend. It accepted us, its people, where we were, with our dirty baseball cleats, fevers, and bad attitudes. It has been sat upon by State of Illinois caseworkers, librarians, hundreds of children, and a chicken. I nursed my last birth son well into toddlerhood on that couch. I spent the night there with a mug of chamomile tea after disagreeing with a seafood salad from a local sandwich shop. My children lined up on the cushions through nearl

It wouldn’t have mattered how many books I had read or that I had attended lectures and breakout sessions from the foremost experts in the field. Whether I had a master’s degree or the highest level, most current certification was insignificant. It meant nothing, and it never would. I had coffee with a longtime friend this morning. Actually, it ended up as more of a soul opening than a coffee date; I guess we both needed a good cry. It is in looking for answers that we come t

Maybe he didn’t intend to leave it here, but I’m happy that he did. The whole kitchen fills with the smell of good coffee, because it’s whole bean, and I have to use the grinder, which makes me appreciate the roast even more, when I already feel like I am getting away with something by using what may have been accidentally left behind. There was a little caddy with a handle, one that held the toothbrush, deodorant, and, among other things, the particular lotion with the patch

“It keeps changing fast, and it don’t last for long.” My mom loved the water. We traveled the country for many summers in our state-of-the-art Coachmen RV, visiting the classic American tourist spots from coast to coast. We loved riding the horse trails, panning for gold, and visiting Opryland. Our adventures, as the driving, were endless. My mom listened to Elvis across a vast majority of the miles, but (perhaps at the hands of my dad) there was also music from the John

Something happened. Something went wrong, or maybe it didn’t. Words that interrupted my idle thoughts as I stood at the kitchen sink, face-to-face with dinner’s aftermath, cannot be taken back. Even as I feel the blood rush through my legs and the empty space grow in my soul, I find solace in a cupcake. It’s the last one, hidden in the back corner of the freezer, leftover from a forgotten celebration. Rich chocolate of the most devilish kind, with a perfectly swirled pi

What she said must have been true, or I might have remained a captive audience. As my attention turned elsewhere, my thoughts rotated with the fervor of a metal merry-go-round, the splendor of its carnival colored paint chipping into oblivion with each passing circle as words trailed into the distance. I think this is how my children must feel. Bags and boxes placed at the will of another on a mechanical conveyor belt, moving along at someone else’s speed, headed for someon