Personal Essays

One Last Time

So many times in my life, I’ve thought about how much I wish I’d savored something that, unbeknownst to me, was coming to an end. When something ends, it means it is the last time, no more, never to return. Sometimes, we see it coming, and if only that made it easier to swallow. But it usually doesn’t. Other times, we’re blindsided by the suddenness of the ending.


I’ll Bring the Pepperoni Rolls

Ever since I was a little girl, I’ve loved thumbing through recipes. It started with my mother’s 1961 Betty Crocker New Picture Cookbook with the vanilla and egg and molasses-stained pages. Then, as a young (too young) married woman, I graduated to Taste of Home annual edition cookbooks. It was fabulous. I’d get lost for hours reading about Alma Sue’s Potatoes Au Gratin and how, regardless of her gnarled, painfully arthritic hands, she peeled five pounds of potatoes every Sunday night for her weekly family dinners.


I Don’t Eat Nearly Enough Funnel Cake

Someday we’re all going to die. It’s not morbid to think about that. If anything, it’s good sense to consider that thought on occasion, to be better prepared. No matter how rich or beautiful or successful or kind we are, no matter where we live, how well we try to hide, we cannot escape the inevitable. One of these days, one of these years, our number will be called. It’s okay, though! It happens to everyone. Fearing it, dreading it, or fixating on it is as futile as fearing, dreading, or fixating on the changing seasons. 


When Someone Offers You Hot Chocolate, Always Say Yes

One of my biggest pet peeves is when I offer to do something for someone, and they say no. I am not a narcissist who needs constant praising or any sort of glory. However, there are times in my life, like let’s say, when I’m in a Hallmark Christmas movie kind of mood, that I want to offer a kind gesture. I may want to make you a cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream, marshmallows, and a candy cane stirrer at times like that.


If Only I Had Time to Write

I love making lists. I’d go as far as to say that lists are the Mean Girls in my life, who, rather than going away after graduation, continue to stick around and torment me. You know, if you’re a list maker, how it goes. They lure you in with promises that you’ll be a better version of yourself if you stick with them, that you’ll be successful, maybe even famous someday! Then, they turn on you on a dime when you inevitably get distracted.