Next time I want to give up and say, this is too hard for me, I want out — I’ll think of Ahuva and keep going
I always worried and wondered what sort of mother I’d be. I’m a little impatient — make that very. Multisyllabic words are my favorite kinds, and I have a low tolerance for mindless stupidity (which is the Webster definition of children, right?)
Dear Seminary Girl, They’re going to tell you to drink. Because of the heat, they’ll say. Because the sun here is different. It’s true. The sun here is different. You should drink. There are other truths. Truths that won’t be elucidated as clearly. Like the fact that soon, or at the end, or at some
Mom refused to budge. “Behind my back you did this! I’m not a piece of garbage, you know.”
