November 22nd, 2008
When I first met Jeff, he was a young teenager and I was in my mid-thirties. He was a sweet, introverted, Keanu Reeves look-alike.
I’d not seen him for fifteen years when he e-mailed me last summer.
Now he was a thirty-year-old struggling singer-songwriter, touring the country. He might be in the Bay Area later in the year. I told him we’d love to see him and he was welcome to stay with us. I was both surprised to hear from him, and to find he’s one of those people I feel connected to no matter how much time has passed.
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October 19th, 2008
The sound of Nick’s quick steps on the hardwood floor awoke me before I heard his voice at my bedside.
“Mom,” my eleven-year old said. “I had a really bad nightmare. I’m so scared.”
I pulled my covers back and pushed my body upright. I’m always a bit surprised at how easily I spring into mom mode in the middle of the night.
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October 16th, 2008
I feel like I’ve had the following conversation with my husband a zillion times.
The situation: We are meeting at 1 p.m. on Thursday at our son’s school for a parent teacher conference. I need to BART from my job in San Francisco to the school in Oakland. My husband works out of our home in Oakland.
The conversation begins on Tuesday:
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April 24th, 2008
My son Nick, a fifth grader, had procrastinated completing his history assignment all week. Now, on a warm Saturday afternoon, he was stuck at the dining room table, reading several pages on World War I.
“Mom, why is war legal?” he asked. His face had that scrunched up puzzled look he gets when he thinks adults make up the stupidest rules.
“What do you mean?”
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