I wasn’t a girl who wanted to be a mom. Yes, I played with dolls, but it wasn’t my heart’s desire to mother. Yet, once I became pregnant with my oldest son, I was altered in the sweetest ways: the...
You see, those lunch memories—what was in the box and not in the box—say a great deal. They represent who she is. Who she was....
Once upon a time, there sits a girl: freckled nose, wavy hair, on the cusp of the oh-so-awkward stage, attempting to cover her shyness and vulnerabilities with coolness and confidence. Seated with her pals at a long table on a...