I’m throwing clothes in bags and packing up the sunscreen to leave for vacation on Friday, but always, always, always leaving room for the books. (My parents will shake their…
Author: <span>Beth Hendrickson</span>
It’s big girl room time. Now, those words can be read quickly, with barely a passing glance. They can be read sing-song, like traipsing through a field of daisies. Or…
When we were little, you could tell our personalities apart by our hair styles. Mine: long and straight from four years old until, well, now. Hers: Short today, long tomorrow.…
“And one does one do on the Fourteenth of July? Does one celebrate Bastille Day?” These are the opening lines from my favorite David Sedaris essay, “Jesus Shaves.” As a…
I have post-summer-camp-itis. It’s that dis-ease that settles in once sleep finally revisits your eyelids, your bags are unpacked, musty clothes shuttled to (but not necessarily back from) the laundry,…
I’m going to try my hardest to be objective, but I know I’m going to fail, so I’ll just get my bias out of the way right now: I have…