Overheard intimacy pulls the listener into its orbit, insinuating complicity where there is none.
My grandmother had no way of knowing a book on birds, sent from Russia when I was a child, would determine my adult fascinations.
I knew we were only going to Rulo to make up for his getting so drunk he slept in. Rulo was an apology.
Mom wasn’t interested in being the type of mother—or wife—who put her own life on the back burner
Prepared for every situation, even pandemic, mothers should be the ones on TV when our nation is under attack by terrorists or viruses.
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