A rising sun paints the morning sky a rich red. Distant mountains stand a sharp silhouette against a fiery curtain.
“Wake up and see,” they say. “Wake up and see.”
But sleep calls me back. The morning road is so familiar that for a moment I forget where I am. I could be in a dozen other cities. My mind starts playing through the familiar routes in the places I’ve called home. Finally, I remember. Continue reading
Homework. How I’ve come to hate that word. I want to be a flower in the field, blooming my little heart out. I do not want to be the grim reaper of the missing homework assignment but that’s been my job today.
If my son has homework, then I have homework. My task is twice as hard. First, I have to mentally prepare the boy for the assignment. I have to make its completion contingent upon something he wants. Then I have to listen to the mournful wailing that is sure to ensure.