When I was in elementary school, my family lived next to a farm that had cows, horses, goats, pigs, chickens and many, many dogs. It seemed as though there were always a lot of adorable warm puppies to cuddle.
As the grandparent of a delightful 3-year-old (affectionately known as Ipsy), who lives a distance away, I miss not visiting with him for a few hours a day, or taking him to the park, or having him over for Sunday afternoons, the experiences I enjoyed with my grandparents, who lived 7-8 blocks away.
All of my life I have been a woman of faith. St. Francis De Sales says the purest form of prayer is the cry of the heart.
I attended a workshop led by Beatrice Beebe, PhD, who does research on mother- infant interaction. I watched her videotapes of mothers and their infants, observing their facial expressions, vocal communications, and touch.
I was twice a refugee from the Holocaust – first, from Austria to France and seven years later, from France to the United States.
Siblings play powerful roles in our lives from birth until death. They are our companions, competitors, defenders and the ones who taunt us.
Beloved folktales have universal appeal as they enshrine powerful unconscious fears and fantasies from old feelings of dependency and helplessness in childhood.
During the great snow of January 2016, one of our adult children moved back in. Dressed up in her new jeans and elegant boots she sat out the three days cozily ensconced on our new, cream sofa until the snow cleared.
Having the courage and, perhaps, confidence to say what we see in front of our eyes and then to be curious about it may sound simple, but it is not.
My dear friend has dementia. She cannot form short-term memories any longer and she becomes anxious when she knows she needs to keep track of something.