childhood

A photo of your long-dead cat, Milo, in a brass Easter egg-shaped frame. Oh, sweet animal, I miss your furballs, you think when you hang it on a low branch. Milo had an uncanny ability to hork on laps when unwanted visitors overstayed their welcome.

I’m happy to say that, though it’s been fifteen years since that night, Chelsea, Sarah, and I are still best friends.

This must be what happens when you don’t really want to talk about something, but you need to. You talk circles around and around it until you spiral right down to the center, and then there’s nothing left to say but the thing you need to say.

I sat obediently in her chair atop four ancient copies of the Yellow Pages. Crossing my fingers, I prayed Catholic schoolgirl prayers.

Parents often confuse healthy eating in children with that of adults. They shouldn't.

For this year's 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence, the UN Refugee Agency is zeroing in on child marriage.

I saw my old babysitter at a women’s wrestling cage match.

Millie lowered her voice and asked me if I had plans for the rest of the day. Did I want to make some mushroom tea and watch Frozen in Union Square?