I love salty food. Perhaps that is because I have low blood pressure. I also love garlic and onions. Perhaps that is because I have no taste buds left, after decades of eating the spiciest food I can shovel down and smoking Marlboro Lights in college.
Whether or not Gd/Hashem exists, this religion has made my daughter see the world as a benevolent place, to see a higher power as forgiving and loving -- and to feel this sense of security about her destiny in a way that my husband never will.
As a wife, I make mistakes. And I make them often. I don't need other wives telling me what mistakes I make, because I'm aware of them. You don't need me telling you what mistakes you make, either, but you probably make these.
I'm not much one for crying. But this morning I did, as I watched Irish poet Seamus Heaney's funeral, and heard his last words. Words he sent to his wife minutes before he died. 'Noli timere' -- don't be afraid.
After my surgeries it was almost unbearable for him to see my scars. Not because of how they make me look -- that doesn't matter. But because to him they were visible proof that he'd failed, as a man, to protect his woman from harm.
My husband and I have been together for twelve years and married for nine years. Our parents have never met in person. Although, I do not count this as a negative. Everyone gets along sublimely and their phone conversation skills are superb.
pparently, when one turns 40, one is expected to celebrate in a spectacularly grandiose fashion. One is supposed to go into their fourth decade on this planet roaring like a lion, taking 40 by the horns and MAKE 40 THEIR BITCH. Or so I've been told.
As I watched my sons being born, I knew our generation must be a generation to take on the responsibility of fatherhood. We need to care about women giving birth to the next generation. We need to be involved with our children from the moment they take their first breath.