Isn’t that what nesting is? A physical manifestation of a promise? A way of convincing ourselves that this time will be different? And it delivered.
Apparently humans are the only animals that plan ahead for the future. At least that’s been the conventional belief. Recent...
I love intense Facebook conversations, until they turn nasty. Then, my friends, I become an unhappy addict.
I'm not hysterical about Trump, and I don't worry much about anti-Semitism. Though I'm no optimist, the panic surrounding me feels unduly intense. Let's hope I'm right.
I thought I knew who I was, but how much of me was really me?
I resist the urge to grab him by his arms and shake him. Instead, straddling life and death, I am patient.
I had slammed a door on the purest part of my soul. And for what? Like a baby crying out for its mother, I had denied its outstretched arms, turned the key, and plugged my ears to the cries.
Sometimes, distance only makes the heart grow more pained.
“Are you here to see the Rebbe?” someone asks, a guy I haven't seen in maybe a decade, shouting over five or six heads in the two or three feet of space between us.
Someone you know is battling for their soul. Are we ready to get real?
