Waking up without an alarm clock on a weekend morning is one of life's sweetest treasures.

How rich to look at the clock, and let the adrenaline rush subside when the day of the week becomes clear. How wonderful to snuggle back under the flannel-covered comforter, to drift back to the dream, to tell the dog to lie down again; it's the weekend.

What treasure is there in your life that you've hung onto through marriage, children, the never-ending need to do laundry, grocery shop and be particular places at particular times?

Sometimes it's easier to list what we've let go of... Continue Reading

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These women have big shoes that I must one day fill.

My mother fell last week and broke her hip. As breaks go, the doctor said, it was about as good as it gets.

My youngest brother, who lives in the second floor apartment of my mother’s New England triple-decker, came up with a good analogy to explain it. If you think of the femur as an ice cream cone, he told everyone except one California brother who got too grossed out, the ice cream went into the cone, causing a crack. In an hour-and-a-half surgery, three screws pinned the crack back together, and now Mom must heal.

Six to eight weeks, no weight bearing, is a tough penalty for a woman who redefines the word industrious... Continue Reading

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