LAURA: When I was a kid, my grandparents lived in a house with a closet that had stairs and a hidden cubby inside. It captured my imagination (imagine! secrets in a closet!), and I loved to play in there. Now, of course, I’ve grown too big to fit inside, and even my very best imaginations can’t make me believe that a closet really is another world. I miss that sometimes–being able to make my real world disappear and let my play one be real for a while.
READER POST: A friend came to visit me today. I haven’t seen her in a while, but I do know that she is there. She is one of a very few people in my community who has shown me love, support, and empathy after a series of painful life struggles led to my divorce. She brought the kids and me a little Christmas gift and wrote me a sweet card. She also listened. She listened to my fears. My hopes. My frustrations. My vulnerabilities. My anger. My sadness.
She listened. Continue reading “Are Not We All Prisoners?”
HILDEGARD: I remember the basement being a grand staging area for Mom’s beautiful projects, some of which were for Relief Society fundraising back in the days of bazaars and actual Homemaking meeting. A “bazaar” sounded so exotic! And Mom sure seemed excited to participate. Alight with a child’s enthusiasm during the Christmas season, I watched as she magicked together beautiful things to contribute to the event–whatever it actually was. I’d learn when I was older.