cultivating the beautiful ordinary by sharing our tales and our tables
“A turtle got it,” my dad said to me as I looked with utter devastation at the claw marks on my prized watermelon. I was eight years old and had waited months for my favorite fruit to be ready. Days before I got to cut it open, our neighborhood turtles decided to make it their…
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A few years ago, my father posted a Facebook post telling the cyber world that he had met the last love of his life. He explained that he had been allowed to love five women over his lifetime, and this woman was the last of his great loves. I remember staring at the confession on…
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