An aged man lay in his hospital bed alone. He listened to the beeps and hums of the machine next to him and the footsteps of nurses and patients as they passed by his room. He concentrated on breathing, coaxing his lungs to move in and out with every passing second. He kept his eyes opened and studied each wall in his small room – the generic art work, the cracks, the cobwebs that no one notices and therefore never cleans. The only view out his window was blue  sky. He knew his time on earth would soon come to an end. He was alone for a lot of reasons. He spent what could have been the happiest, most enjoyable time in his life, answering the call of his country in Vietnam. When he returned, his interests changed. And because he could no longer connect to the world on a normal level, he spent his years alone, drinking and smoking. He never caused trouble. He never harmed a soul, but the damage to himself was now taking its’ toll. He lived in the same house for over 30 year...

I drove for 2 days in a blizzard to be with my husband for Valentines Day. Not just any blizzard, but the worst one on the East Coast in over a century. With me, I had a very scared, very loud cat and a very squirmy, energetic puppy. I spent the night in a fleabag motel when whiteout conditions would let me go no further. To top it off, my ipod died barely an hour into the journey. (In case you’re wondering, this is why there was no blog yesterday – no internet in the flea bag motel). I began to think about the things we do for love and it reminded me of another road trip in the not so distant past. Last summer, I made a 24-hour trek from Nebraska to North Carolina with my sister, my dog, and my two nephews ages 3 and 1. In case you’re curious, this involved not only the normal amount four people’s luggage for a month, but dog food, car-seats, diaper bags, strollers, and high-chairs, most of which had to be strapped to the top of my car with bungee cables and old rope found in my par...

I’ll never forget the first glimpse I caught of the New York City skyline. In the passenger seat of my Hyundai Santa Fe with the backseat filled with boxes, pillows, and a dog, I saw the dark geometric shapes stretch across the horizon as we drove along I-95. I was amazed at how clearly I saw the buildings even though the GPS said we were still 45 minutes away from our destination. Despite the 10 hour car ride, hunger pains, and sleep deprivation, I shot straight up and glued my nose to the window. As we got closer, the true outline of the buildings became clearer. Stacked rows of light shone through the square office windows making the vastness of the structures even more impressive. It was a mountain of buildings, sprinkled with lights. I thought about all the moments we would encounter here – the struggles, the work, the frustration, and the success. It’s still difficult to describe the level of shock I experienced my first days in the city. For a Nebraska girl whose idea of a traf...

I have the best granny in the world, or so says the homemade, brightly colored, baked clay clumsily glued to a safety pin “broach” I made for her in first grade. Constantly levelheaded, and always sensible, my grandma can be found in the front row of every Christmas play, piano recital, and cheerleading competition, bursting with pride for her grandchildren. Each of her co-workers knows by heart the lives of my sisters and myself. “Oh! You’re Mary’s granddaughter,” they say when she introduces me. “Boy have I heard a lot about you!” She drags every person she can club over the head to one of my boring jazz band concerts or just to listen to me play the piano at Lee’s Restaurant and sip coffee. There is nothing I wouldn’t do to return her love or see her happy. Nothing. My grandma is the sort of person who could talk endlessly about nothing and all you would have to do to make her think you’re listening is unconsciously grunt or nod your head every so often – it’s one of her most love...

I had a best friend for 14 years. Together we traveled the country, went for jogs, lived in 3 different states, and relaxed in the evenings. She was my dog, Duchess. I had her for over half of my life. I remember the happy, playful energy she possessed as a puppy. I remember the dread that I used to feel as she grew older, slower, and more and more tired, knowing the day would inevitably come when she was no longer there to listen to me practice the piano or walk with me to Dunkin Doughnuts to get my morning coffee. One evening, I arrived home from a gig in the city to see Duchess in our living room slowly rise from her napping position on the floor to greet me at the top of the stairs. Each move as she unfolded her legs, propped herself up, and walked towards me was more deliberate and painful looking than usual. I ached for her and gave her a reassuring pet, then walked to the bedroom to put down my things. When I came back into the living room, I was struck with terror at the si...

I sat on the couch with my 9 month old nephew cradled in my arms. I stared at his face with a wonder and amazement reserved for observing only the finest works of art. His light, smooth skin seemed the result of a painter who perfected the shade with a dab of this color and that color until the outcome was a creamy peach with a hint of rose. The artist brushed the delicate paint over the perfectly sculpted contours of his plump cheeks and tiny round nose. And for eyes, only the bluest and largest sapphires would do, framed by soft strands of golden silk. As I held the bottle in his mouth, he contently stared back into my eyes, his glistening black pupils jutting about to the different areas of my face. It seemed like he was waiting to have a conversation, I just had to start it. Using the couch armrest for support, I curled my left arm farther around him, freeing my right hand. I raised my right index finger and pointed at my nose. “Nose?” I said with a bit of a question in my ...