Jane Sarah writes from New York City.

 


Giving Life!

My neighbor across the hall is a friendly, happy-go-lucky single mom with 2 charming sons–one grown, who is beyond nice, and her little 3-year-old, as smart as a whip and officially our most adorable neighbor ever. She is a pretty lady who looks less than half her 5...
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Dad’s Bread and Butter Crumbs

One recent morning, while emailing one of my co-workers and simultaneously texting my boss, I heard the distinctive sound of toast popping up. I was working in the living room—my pandemic-mandated office—and after hitting “Send” I ran to the kitchen and pressed the lever to...
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Dreams in a Pandemic

  I am the proud owner of a coffee mug that displays wisely worded encouragement from Thoreau: Go confidently in the direction of your dreams! Live the life you’ve imagined. I got it at a high-end “Second Time Around” sale at a well-heeled Episcopal Church in New York City—for...
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My Romantic Desk

  I am my father’s daughter in one very specific way—I have an eye for discarded, curbside furniture. When, upon close inspection, I discover that a piece is still serviceable, I wonder what the possible back story of its rejection could be. Was the fate of that Queen...
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Good Things Happen When Medicine Gets Personal

“Tell me about your son.” These were the words I heard over the phone three years ago while searching for a doctor who could give psychological help to my 19-year-old son who has Prader Willi syndrome. In all my years of raising him, this was the first time anyone ever asked me...
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