
Two mornings a week I retreat to the silence of an empty house. I want to fill it with words. But there is work to be done, wrinkles smoothed and papers filed. The breakfast crumbs still dot the counter tops. I reach for a sponge and feel the words tug at my hem. There is no such thing as balance. We don't live on a two-sided scale, the children dangling dangerously from the edge as the plate moves up and down. On the other side there is a paper cut-out, a silhouette that's … [Read more...]