Letters to Gabriel (eight)
I want to remember this stage, this week, this day. Because I know it won't last. Soon, you’ll learn to pronounce “please” and I don’t...
Dad's hands
Memories are slippery things. Like sand through hands. They disappear. Sneak off to someplace else. Only a few stick. Which go, which...
Letters to Gabriel (seven)
A letter to you, Gabriel Levi, on your first word.
Letters to Gabriel (seven)
More. More. More. Your first word. The best of words. More stairs to climb. More wooden blocks. More late-night cuddles. More pictures on...
Letters to Gabriel (six)
We couldn’t tell anyone that night what, or who, was on our mind. So you felt like a little secret that we (cautiously optimistically) celeb
Letters to Gabriel (five)
This is my favorite time and place.
Letters to Gabriel (four)
You know those people? People who talk about their kids all of the time? They go on about some milestone their son or daughter has...
Letters to Gabriel (three)
Most babies lay their heads on their mother's chest when they're being rocked in these sweet, quiet moments. Or so I'm told. But
Letters to Gabriel (two)
Today, I did what parents do. I was ill-prepared. But I survived. And, what's more so did you! 4:22 p.m. A text from day care lights...
Letters to Gabriel (one)
Gabriel Levi, I want to tell you something before I forget. There are dishes and laundry to be done, and a fridge that is in desperate...
