Inside, 20 teenagers—many of them scarred, tattooed, broken-looking—talked in small groups. After I was introduced, the kids looked at me somewhat suspiciously. As I told them why I loved this incredible story of a young boy’s journey across the frozen Badlands of the Dakotas in search of his fugitive older brother, it occurred to me that I might not be able to give away any books at all.
Read MoreMy heart pounded.Sweat puddled on my arms. My legs were Jell-O. No, I wasn’t in a horror movie. Close. Spinning class.
I’ll level with you…
Read More“Hey, I am going to steal your wallet now. See. I have my hands on it. Watch me take it.” —Said no robber ever.
It’s almost funny to think about, because it doesn’t happen. I thought about an announced robbery when I read these words, “Comparison is truly the thief of joy.” A student included them in a letter through Letters About Literature, a program where students write to authors about how their books made a personal impact.
With those words, I remembered our house being robbed...
It’s hard to remember as a working mom to stop and take delight: to find joy in the spilled milk, the yelling of “no!”, the tugging of hair, and the seemingly endless battles over putting on shoes and then taking them off.
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