This past Monday, our family loaded the trappings of college dorm life into our two cars. It was time to move Nathan back to campus for his junior year. As we prepared to leave home,…
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This graphic is on one of my favorite t-shirts. A friend gave me the shirt years ago. I’m gonna wear it till it turns into a holey rag. That’s how much I love its message….
A light pops up on the dashboard of my Ford Fusion. My stomach sinks to the floor. “Check Oil.” This isn’t an emergency, exactly—just a bit of a pickle. In our family, Jihong’s the oil…
It’s night-time in Baltimore, Maryland, a city with its fair share of troubles—high poverty rate, high unemployment rate, high crime rate . . . But if you scan the city skyline, what you see there…
“You feel a little tighter today than normal,” Rachel says, softly. Yeah, right, I think. As if I haven’t noticed. Rachel is my massage therapist. I typically book an appointment with her every month to help…
I’m so grateful for the outpouring of well wishes during my illness! Know that I’m writing this with a smile and increasing levels of energy. What follows is a list of “Frequently Asked Questions” (FAQ) regarding my health, along with my answers. Thanks for your understanding as I continue to recover.
On September 4, Jihong and I delivered Nathan to college for his sophomore year. An hour after we unloaded his stuff at the dorm, Nathan auditioned on his cello for a seat in the symphonic orchestra, a premier touring group comprised of highly skilled student-musicians, most of them majoring in music.
This weekend I’m retreating at the home of my friend and co-editor Ruby Wilson to assemble the second volume of Poetry of Presence (forthcoming, May, 2022). Without question, this is my favorite part of creating…
Dear Julie, Thank you for your sweet note concerning my work. Thank you, too, for entrusting me with this question that’s been weighing on your heart: “How does one hold both grief and joy at…
Wending your way through an art museum, you come to a gallery with two wooden chairs in the center. A small table separates them. White tape on the floor delimits a large square around the…
Don is a 90-year-old retired firefighter. He lives in a condo on the 10th floor of an apartment building in a bustling suburb of Washington, DC. Five years ago, Don sent me an email—another stranger,…
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