They say that a scent has the ability to trigger a memory, to take you back to a time in the past, no matter how distant. A friend claims the mere scent of a pot of tomato sauce simmering on the stove reminds her of her Italian grandmother’s house. The logical part of my brain…
It’s become a pattern, an annoying part of my personality that follows me into middle age, whether I am conscious of it or not. Starting over. Every new year, the first of every month, every Monday and even just every morning I feel my brain saying it. A fresh start. A new day to be…
The boxes are down from the attic, stacked in haphazard fashion in the garage and waiting to be refilled. I am not ready. For seven weeks and three days, Christmas has filled this house. Santa, baby Jesus and all of their various snowmen and reindeer friends have been happily perched on shelves, hanging from the…
When I was a kid, Christmas was all about me. Starting each November, I would carefully turn down page corners in the huge Sears catalogue and circle my must-haves with a marker. Then I would carefully craft my annual letter to the portly man in the red suit, reminding him of all the good deeds…