Memoir

Visiting my mother at her home in Richmond, Virginia involves equal parts big hugs and, frequently, big worries.  When, a year ago, I stepped out of the airport taxi, my first thought – usually, I hope she’s doing well – was of the draft manuscript of my memoir in my bag. 

Is being more important than doing? When I visit my mother, I list the tasks to accomplish for her around the house. It’s a way to […]