My wife noted this morning that the temperature gauge outside our kitchen widow read minus 9 degrees. The windows in the bedroom were frosted over with a thick rime, so … Continue reading
I throw some seeds onto the snow and the dark-eyed juncos are here, very busy.
Just a few days before my father died in 2014, I asked him a question some might find insensitive or inappropriate: “So, what are your thoughts now about dying?”
She didn’t know why, but she said she was very happy, as happy as she had ever been. She was like a voice in the midst of war, a calming, soothing voice from home. He heard the words, he was moved to tears at their affection. He had survived.
Too late, I spotted Baby Jesus’ feet sticking out of Punkin’s mouth – snatched from the tabletop nativity scene. I flew across the room to rescue the Prince of Peace. Punkin took a big gulp, and Jesus disappeared down his gullet.
Melissa Febos never planned to write a book about her experiences as a heroin addict and professional dominatrix, but the result of exposing and making sense out of her dark history had profound and unexpected results. By making her darkness visible, she reached thousands of strangers and became closer with her own family. “This kind of honesty,” she claims, “makes room for every kind of love.”
Climate Change, Up Close and Personal