No story sits by itself, Sometimes stories meet at corners and sometimes they cover one another completely, like stones beneath a river.

but then she did. she died. no more visits, no more phone calls. And without even realizing it, I began to drift, as if my roots had been pulled, as if I were floating down some side branch of a river.

I don't know what it is about food your mother makes for you, especially when it's something that anyone can make - pancakes, meat loaf, tuna salad - but it carries a certain taste of memory.

He almost told her everything right then, that very moment. But you grab a moment, or you let it pass. He let it pass.

Anyone who tries to write a memoir needs to keep in mind that what's interesting to you isn't necessarily interesting to a reader.

Once heaven is done with grandma, we'd like her back, thanks.

I think we hear a lot of talk about college, and we don't hear about early education.