by Debi
“Mama! I see Grammy!”
Sarah waved to her grandmother as they pulled up the gravel driveway to the old Victorian house on the hill overlooking the busy waterfront across the street.
As soon as the van stopped, Sarah was out the door in a flash, not even needing her mother to unbuckle the car seat. There was no such thing as Sarah-proofing anything. Grammy bent down and gave Sarah’s blonde head a quick kiss, and then hugged her until she got tired of the bear hug and wriggled free. Continue reading
When Rob’s mother died, I had mixed feelings. Phyllis and I had a flimsy, at best, relationship. The only thing we shared in common was our love for Rob. My love for him was the romantic and strong love of a spouse for a partner in both life and parenting. Phyllis loved the man we shared fiercely, possessively, proudly—as only the mother of an only son can really love.
Debi Taylor-Hough 