Comfort Only Takes a Minute

Comfort Only Takes a Minute

In 2002, one of my neighbors gave me a birthday card with a drawing of costumes in a wardrobe and the caption Masquerading as a normal person is exhausting. If I got that card today, I’d smile and toss it in the basket I keep for recyclable bits of ribbon, photos and small gift boxes. But at the time, the words struck a deep chord, and I framed it for my nightstand. I was two years into the grief of many losses. Smiling required a deliberate effort: when it was socially appropriate to smile, I smiled. Otherwise, I didn’t....

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Good-bye, Matz, My Friend

Good-bye, Matz, My Friend

For just over a year I’ve had a great gift: an old golden retriever I got at the rural post office near where I live. He was skinny, matted, filthy, and covered in hundreds of ticks. He had ticks clinging to his eyelids. He had ticks and thorns embedded between his toes. A big ugly cyst hung off of his side like a tennis ball with fur....

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