has not followed instructions, please forgive him. He is excellent at building companies and terrible at locating envelopes.
I laughed so suddenly that Leo stirred.
For a moment, eleven years disappeared.
Mom was there again—not literally, but in the rhythm of her sentences, her dry humor, her habit of softening serious things before saying them plainly.
She wrote about my childhood and how fiercely independent I had always been.
At seven, I refused to let Dad tie my shoes.
At fourteen, I rejected his driver and rode the bus for
