I recently had lunch with a high school acquaintance who tracked me down for an upcoming class reunion.

After you’ve pursued various career paths and seen them through, job hunting in retirement feels both humiliating and exasperating.

It was a summer afternoon in my small Missouri town in the mid-1960s, when I looked up from my efforts of mastering a hula hoop in time to see a man and woman whiz down High Street on their bicycle for two.

My zodiac sign is the scales: Balance. The symbol of justice. Maybe that’s why I believe in karma so much.

Well, for all my talk and resistance about it, ongoing singlehood came down to swallowing my pride and giving online dating a chance.

I was twenty-two when I met Dana . . . his presence always forced my throat to close.

My conception of home has always been where my stuff is.

My husband John died October 30, 2019. This was a piece he loved.

Let's talk about sex.

Daily, an old regret will surface, a sudden flashing of I Wish I Had Done That Differently.

I used to berate myself for my lack of conviction.

I was raised by lower middle-class parents who weren’t particularly fond of children.