This morning a simple memory surfaced by way of a photograph. It was unposed, and none of the subjects in fact faced the camera. A gentle sun was shining and the spray of waves rose in the background. In the foreground, our then-five children were captured in various poses: one son balancing on his roller blades; two daughters standing close together and relaxed; our preschool duo each paused and holding the handlebars of his scooter. All looking at an adult family friend we happened to encounter on his bik
My first response was to smile and share the long-ago photo with this friend's wife. Then followed motherly nostalgia, as a decade has passed and the third of our once-little children is soon to leave our family nest. But nostalgia turned to sorrow, and sorrow to grief and loss. Not because time has moved on, which is bittersweet yet normal and good. Instead, because later events stole the innocence of that moment and many others from the hearts of at least two of my children. Today they cannot think of Iqu
When shock and sorrow overshadow, even sweet moments are swallowed by darkness.