Author Archives: Liz

Forget the point

I’ve been bored lately.  “I feel like a machine,” I told someone at work recently.  “I’m too efficient for my own good,”  I’m either in task mode, checking off the boxes, or I’m sedentary.  Those are my two speeds.  It’s … Continue reading

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To see a boy

Last Friday night, a brood of nine-year-old boys skidded around the corners of my living room in their socks, jumping to greet each new friend as he appeared at our doorway.  They wore hoodies and sweatpants and addressed each other … Continue reading

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Broken Drummer Boy

Christmas has recently erupted in all of its glittery, commercial glory  in our home, and each new piece of decor is met with Everett and Mae’s inquisitive stares.  For the past few days, they have awakened to some new red … Continue reading

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Working hard at work worth doing

Today is another day. We pulled in after school and Cohen raced to his scooter, handle bars dare-devishly adjusted to their lowest level, his helmet dangling unbuckled from his head.  I unloaded Everett and took off his sweaty shoes and … Continue reading

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Love

Three days ago, thanks to my amazing sister and brother-in-law, I became an aunt for the first time. I was reminded of the newness of it all– the careful cradling of the neck, the tiny arms through tinier sleeves and … Continue reading

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The most important thing

Dear Cohen, Sophia, & Ellie- (and eventually Everett & Mae– when you can understand words and become more than just your “spark”) I want you to know something– know something about yourselves, that is more important than being smart, being … Continue reading

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Thoughts on lightness & joy

In the heaviness of life, there exists a lightness– and this lightness might be the secret to joy. Snapshots of Lightness  We have make-shift weather experiments all over our house because Cohen read a children’s almanac that said George Washington … Continue reading

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Hands in the dark.

I rock Mae in the dark, and I hear Everett roll over on his side to discover that I’m still in the room.  The mattress creaks as he pulls himself up, standing quietly to watch us, his chin just over the rail … Continue reading

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BSC!

It rained all weekend.  We didn’t do anything we should have done. Instead, in an utterly irrational move, I spent a half an hour cleaning out the basement storage closet in order to get to my giant bin of old … Continue reading

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Poetry and baseball

 A small, six year old boy begins to don his catcher’s equipment for the first time; the gear hangs clunkily from from his tiny frame, the shinguards a bit too long, the helmet swallowing his small head like the unwieldy face mask of a … Continue reading

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