More at Forty

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, salty streaks pooling in my developing wrinkles.  My husband came in to the sound of deep sighs mixed with hard sniffs. I had come upstairs to change out of my pajamas when I sat on the edge of the bed and wondered how I’d gotten…

Read More

A Time to Dance

During fourth grade, my Mom signed me up for an entire year of jazz class.

Read More