We walk past the boat harbor. Sailboats bob in the bay. Purple and yellow flowers line the sidewalk as we pass the water treatment plant. They are not enough to take the mind and nose away from the stench, but the smell doesn’t bother us. It’s something we have come to know as home. I … More color
You’re not parenting. You’re giving in. I’m not sure if it’s laziness or delusional behavior, but the way you’re doing it is wrong. Unless your kid can pull herself up by her bootstraps and make herself better because of some intrinsic values given to her by God, magic, or happenstance, she’s probably going to repeat … More Parenting 2019
monarchs © 2012 Brooke Stevens My kids love without conditions. They care about people and animals. Water, dirt and sand, rocks and trees. They care about many things. They have not yet been spoiled by their surroundings. They want to help others. Pick up trash. Recycle. Give. Not only to those less fortunate but to everyone. … More running out of time
8/18/18—For my kids. You gotta look up. Look forward. At the sky. If you stare too much at the ground beneath your feet, you miss out. On smiling strangers. Monarchs bouncing through the air. Clouds that look like animals. Maybe something from last night’s dream. It’s easy to miss out on opportunity, to put your … More Kids, look up.
He’s lost it a little. That something that pushed and pushed and pushed him. It was light. But there was deep darkness too. Days did not end or begin. They only moved seamlessly one into another. And now that he is full and filling out—heavier, slower, more patient with the world—he has so much of … More and tonight, there is this
Good morning. It’s bright, sunny—another day ripe with possibility and opportunity—as long as we embrace what we have and are willing to push on into the unknown. There’s a lot of good to be put into the world and I can do it, but today, all I really want to do is hole up in … More observe, listen, and record
“Follow me into the dark,” she said. We were upstairs in the hallway. It was 3 a.m. We couldn’t sleep. She was clutching Lamby to her chest and holding my hand. “You’re seven years old,” I said. “What do you know about the dark?” She stopped. I couldn’t see a thing, but I could hear … More scared in the dark