The cranberry farmer reached a calloused hand into the crate and grabbed the loose scruff of one pup’s neck. Holding the limp six-week old yellow Labrador retriever, the farmer grumbled, “You can take this one if you want. The rest are spoken for.”

Waiting for the receptionist to call, I counted my fingers. It had been eleven months since I’d been to the dentist thanks to COVID-19. I scra…

Some tell of being in the Twin Towers, or the Pentagon, nineteen years ago. Others tell of loved ones who died. Some took part in rescues and …

I’ll admit it — I suffer from FOMO when it comes to my kids. My “fear of missing out” has caused me to engage in behaviors that are desperate,…

I’ve been planning to be a grandmother since my own children were babies. I didn’t sell their outgrown baby things at garage sales. I squirrel…

For a few minutes last weekend, I was winning at life. My husband, Francis, and I were getting ready for a small gathering of friends on our n…

It’s summer PCS season, when 40% of the 400,000 military and DoD civilian moves take place each year. This time brings back memories of our fa…

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