I recently returned from a writing residency on the high desert of Central Oregon, a magical place couched between a ridge of low mountains and a dry—in the summer—lakebed. The buildings are situated near a pond with shade trees where all variety...
Why “Car Talk” Makes Me Cry
It has been decades since I have lived back East where I grew up, but I have been longing recently to return for a visit. It’s not that I haven’t visited over the years of my absence—I have made it a practice to get back East to Boston and New...
When the Body Changes, Are You the Same Person?
There is a story my father used to tell about me as a toddler. It was winter and we were outside in the snow, my three-year-old sister on tiny skis, me sitting on a toboggan, both of us bundled in snowsuits. A friend complimented my sister on her...