Writing To My Own Beat
The little girls could have been twins with their ruffled peach skirts and delicate, egg-shell bows eclipsing gold-brown ringlets. Their movements on the rustic floor were not rehearsed or even in rhythm. And yet, their dance was far more beautiful for
Learning From Little Women
This weekend, my poor husband's been sick. Friday night, bored—and slightly bummed we weren’t out on a date—I broke my new TV rule, sat on the couch, ate yogurt, and watched Little Women while the rest of the Petersheim household slept. I have
The Stranger Who Changed Me
At ten years old, I borrowed a book from the library that had mistress in the title. Granted, the cover art featured a gilded carriage reminiscent of Cinderella, with sparkles that flashed in the spokes of the wheels. My mother did