I mentioned in a comment recently that being home means confronting the ghosts in the floor boards. Along with the memories comes the monsters in the closets and the poltergeist in the pipes. None of those hit home with a more resounding thwack to the temple than going through a musty box pulled from the…
The View From the Bottom Bunk
Today my second born, my baby boy, my fidgety ninja tornado of a son, turns six. Our whirlwind philosopher, our witty dervish, our baby who wasn’t supposed to be. What was scheduled to be our final cycle of fertility treatment, the last hurrah, our last-ditch effort to expand our family, had been canceled for medical reasons….