Dear Buyers, Congratulations! You are soon to be the new owners of an 1,840 square foot (not including the finished basement) colonial in a highly desired and constantly revolving neighborhood. This was our first home, both individually and as a couple. We brought three Boston terriers and two children (in that order) home through these doors, and we move on with a lot of excitement and a measure of sadness. I wanted to leave you a few notes about the place we're leaving behind. Between the two houses on either side we've had five sets of neighbors. We borrowed a pick-axe from one and a rake we forgot to return from another. The same rake neighbors borrowed eggs from us during a cookie-baking emergency, and we attend each other's kids' birthday parties. I hope you become as fond of them as we are, enjoy some drinks by their fire pit one night, and maybe loan them some sugar sometime. We will miss having them next door to us, and my kiddos will really miss pla...

First and foremost, I would like to apologize to my mother for each of the hundred thousand times I had an outsized reaction to something that should have been relatively minor. Secondly, I'd like to apologize to my husband, who has endured my tear-fests and rage outbursts for almost a decade. Such tenacity he has shown. Thirdly, I should probably apologize to every room mate, boyfriend, and close friend I've ever had. During one particularly nasty fight, a college cohort accused me of always being in the midst of a crisis. Perhaps she wasn't wrong. I now know what each and every one of you has endured with me. For my daughter, too, is high maintenance. I'm going to need more of these. For example, my sweet little girl has never once in her 18 months come down sick. She's never had the sniffles or a mild cough. But she has, at least a hundred times, been DEATHLY ILL. When my daughter gets a cold, she is not long for this life, and won't let me forge...

The summer after I gave birth to the baby, I treated myself to a new swimsuit. It was one of those forgiving tankini styles in black, with strategically placed blue ruffles. Dillard's was having a special sale, so I got some free gifts with my purchase -- a set of cheap flip-flops two sizes too big and a pair of ugly plastic sunglasses. I knew I would never use either but felt guilty throwing away items that were perfectly good, so I left the items in a bag on my bedroom floor until I decided what to with them. That was in 2013. One entire presidential term came and went while that bag sat on my floor. (Thanks, Obama.) I am not a good housekeeper. Clutter tends to follow in my wake , from winter shoes I may need to wear tomorrow to bills I need to sort through to toys I should give away. And when I begin to feel overwhelmed by raising two tiny, needful humans and living through a time of deep political unrest that may affect my family's sole income stream, my housekeeping...

She was the strongest person I'll ever know. I don't have appropriate words to describe my mother. It wasn't that she was determined, because that implies an overall plan of action. She just kept going. I wouldn't call it perseverance, because that invokes the idea that eventually she prevailed. She didn't; she just kept going. She was not quite persistent or tenacious, and certainly not resolute or steadfast. She woke up every day and did what had to be done all day long, no matter how difficult or unfair or unpleasant. She was not energetic or particularly positive or even hopeful. She just kept going. When the car broke down on the side of the road, she walked with the groceries in her arms. When the electricity was shut off for a week, she heated my bath water on a Coleman stove in the kitchen and carried it to the tub. When my chronically unemployed father couldn't put food on the table, she visited the local food pantry in the next town as often as t...

September and October were given mostly to anxiety . By November depression had set in, but I didn't recognize it for what it was. Instead I blamed the stress of my little girl's first birthday party, or the chaos of those relentless months with so many celebrations to attend and gifts to buy, or the inevitable disappointment that the holidays hold as I try to recapture some feeling of happiness I never quite got my fingers around as a child. I kept thinking if I could just get over the next hurdle, I'd start feeling better. Any day now. Any. Day. By January I was too tired to fight with it anymore. It followed me from room to room in my house. I went to sleep with it and woke up with it. Finally I called my psychiatrist and asked her for a change in my medication. I'm no stranger to recurrent, severe depression. Note I don't use those words lightly -- I actually read them once on my medical chart. "Major depressive disorder, recurrent, severe +...

The below entry was originally posted on MySpace (remember that?) on January 30, 2008, less than a year after my mother died. I have re-posted it below in honor of my mother's birthday. She would have been 66 today. This month marks 10 years since I last saw her.  This morning Therapist Seth asked me about my mom's heart. Aside from her weakened body, the clothes she wore, the few possessions she owned, and the houses she lived in (or didn't), what was the condition of her heart? She was kind, I said, and empathetic. She would take home any stray animal she found, especially if it were sick or hurt. She would give you some of whatever she had, no matter how little, if it would help. When she ran out of money, she fed her cat crumbled bread. When I needed antidepressants in high school, she had her doctor write a prescription for two pills -- then she took one, and gave me the other -- for years. When my engagement broke off in college, she sat on the phone for hours at a ...

If Facebook and Instagram are to be believed, there are women in our country who have clutter-free, artfully decorated, visitor-ready houses at all times. I suspect Mary Poppins floated in on her black umbrella, sang "Spoonful of Sugar" in a full-throated soprano, and the debris of daily life magically marched into its assigned drawers and cubbies of its own accord. I'm still waiting for her to get to my house. I have two children under age 4 and a husband who works odd hours, so my musical experience is more like Jakob Dylan repeatedly singing the line "this place is always such a mess, sometimes I think I'd like to watch it burn" from " One Headlight ." Toys and dog hair litter the floor, you can write cursive (if schools still teach it) in the dust on my bookshelves, and the counter tops are a veritable treasure trove of miscellany. One of the biggest collectors of stuff is the kitchen. Like the heart of the body collects cholesterol, the he...