Swinging the doors open, the music swelled as the audience and I turned around to see my daughter standing in the doorway like a princess. Her long white dress fit her beautifully and her brown curls cascaded around her.  

At 8 pm every night, my kids would run to the open window of our apartment, banging their pots and pans like maniacs. They'd pause for a second, just to make sure they could still hear the same sound echoing off the buildings as our neighbors all ...

“I wouldn’t say I was hurt or offended, maybe just disappointed.”

Hope springs eternal in the human breast. Until it doesn’t. Until the struggles and burdens, the trials and scars squeeze that hope into a tiny bubble.