Our Newborn's 5 Favorite Baby Books

12 February 2018
I come from a family of book lovers and storytellers. My parents were always reading, and looking back, I find myself incredibly lucky to have witnessed them not only enjoy reading to me, but reading for fun on their own too.

My mother had shelves and trunks filled with books on nearly every subject from Colonial Williamsburg to Japanese cooking.  My father always had a book in the car and it would accompany him in waiting rooms or even to the movie theater right before they dim the lights for the previews.

Both of my grandmothers were filled with folk lore and rhymes, and aunts and uncles on both sides shared their favorite tales with me and my cousins. It was only natural that I chose to go to school for writing; after all, my love for a good story is in my bones.

How Italy Cured Me of the Internet

30 January 2018
I am known, from time to time, to run away from the internet. There's something unnatural about this digital world, about the way it beckons me and keeps me captive.

It all started with two weeks in Italy a few years ago. Late night dinners with my husband that lasted for hours, twilight strolls in piazzas, quiet breakfasts overlooking the Mediterranean. No computers, limited phone data, and a different time zone from the majority of my community back home showed me that surviving without the internet in today's society isn't impossible.

It's amazing what fresh air and walks and food made from scratch can do for the body. It's amazing what a society, drenched in history and art can do for the soul.

The First Time: A Birth Story

29 January 2018
The apartment is quiet and we are slow dancing to Tchaikovsky in the living room. Your little arm fits just so around my shoulder; your little head rests in the crook of my neck as you gaze out the window. You are six weeks old, and I am crying.

I'm thinking about my grandmother, your namesake. It is hard to explain to others how you embody her, for it is her character, her expression that lives in you and only those who knew her well can spot it. She was story come to life and as a storyteller, I am haunted by what I cannot provide for you: a story with a beginning, middle and end of how you came to be.

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