Category: NEXT: An Empowerment Series

“Can you stay after school?” she asked. As a second grader, home wasn’t an especially happy place to hurry to. Dad’s drinking had worsened over the years and Mom had bigger worries than after school milk and cookies. “We’ll wait until the others are gone,” Sister Leodegard said. I was the teacher’s pet, so I suspected that I might be the recipient of some special privilege that she didn’t want my classmates to see. The hallways eventually emptied and she opened the wooden closet door. She pulled out a woman’s red wool coat. In the 1960s we would have called

I was about to cut off her head when I stopped. The faded flower’s bloom had enough life left to share some wisdom before she landed in the compost pile. “Pay attention!” I had substituted my morning meditation with time attending to my flowers. I set my intention to focus only on what was directly in front of me. No thinking about yesterday’s mistakes.  No thinking about today’s to do’s. Simply. Stay. Present. I am in a season where I have the undeniable privilege of enjoying many of life’s luxuries, including my very own rooftop deck with pots of flowers

I awoke early. I set an intention of ease. My Saturday started with my weekly stroll to the farmers market. I had twelve whole hours to get ready. There would be no rushing. List in one hand, two bags in the other, I took my time perusing the stalls for the perfect ingredients.  After tasting the samples I made my purchases. Parsley. Mint. Scallions. Cucumbers. Tomatoes. Once home, I penned my agenda for the day on the back of an envelope.  Make tabbouleh Ready the rooftop Tidy apartment Assemble dishes Prepare drinks Get ready I resisted the urge to add

A weekend on a Mediterranean island could have been mine.  Relaxing on the beach.  Admiring the mountains.  Perhaps a palace tour or a walk among the Moorish remains. It could have been mine, had I said yes. All of my friends were going. I was in the middle of my semester as a Spanish student in Barcelona, thanks to a program in which my room and board cost the same as it would have had I spent the semester in a Midwestern dormitory. A year and a half of straight A’s in my college classes hadn’t eliminated my fear of

The sun is shining. The sky is blue. The warm wind blows over me in my convertible with the top down. This is my charmed life. Grigio—named after his beautiful shade of silver—has two seats, a tiny trunk, and limited leg room.  He’s Italian, and for my season without children to shuttle or mulch to haul, he suits me and my life. As I exit the freeway I see a man standing on the median. The yellow light turns red. I stop. The figure wearing a heavy jacket on a June day is just a few feet from me.  I

My mother was patient and kind. She knew how to wait. For buses in the middle of winter. For one of her eight children to call on a Sunday afternoon. For a lifetime of prayers to be answered.  I did not inherit her patience gene. I’m more prone to precrastination than procrastination. I like to get to my goals quickly and efficiently. Being gifted a new bench for my rooftop deck, I was eager to give it some bright new cushions. I did my research, made my selection, and placed an online order for same day pick up. Enjoying my

“I’d like to see him.” In between my sips of cabernet and the passing of crispy blue cheese potato bites, my words surprised me.  At happy hour with my girlfriends, I learned that Gary had entered hospice.  I have not seen Gary in a couple of years. Maybe three. While I’ve asked others how he was doing, I made no effort to connect. Now I heard myself asking for the phone number so I could visit. Gary was my neighbor. Developmentally disabled, he came to live with the couple next door as an adult, joining two other men who’d found

Some people I love keep secrets from me.  Despite knowing I care deeply about them, there’s something they don’t want me to know.  Sometimes they hide the reason they did not respond to my calls and texts. Sometimes they hide that they have been in the hospital for days…again. Sometimes they hide that the police took them away in the middle of the night in their nightie, although they had committed no crime. Celebrities from Lady Gaga and Lena Dunham and Justin Beiber have talked about their anxiety and depression.  Bits of raw desperation and loneliness will pop up on

The framed photo in my office to remind me of what mattered most needed an update. Before our era of instant cell phone selfies, a trip to a photography studio was in order.  It would replace the one that included my children’s father, from whom I was now divorced. Photographers Joe and Judy Johnston had known my family since my children they were babies. As they posed us for the portrait, they understood this was a milestone different than a wedding or graduation but no less important. I sat regally proud of my now smaller family.  A single strand of

Some months seem more special than others. Take December: Christmas, my birthday, and my children coming home for the holidays. Then there’s February: Ground Hog Prom, Valentine’s Day, and the birthdays of three of my sibs.  But April. April wins my heart. April imbues me with appreciation. April is the birth month of many amazing beings in my life. Koledon who can cook or sew or grow practically anything, Roger who is fast feeling like a brother, Hannah in Atlanta with her ever ready smile. Add to them Caroline, Mo, and so many more that I adore. Some of the