I mocked late-marriers for taking their husbands' name — then I went and did it. — When my husband proposed to me, I was 49 and never married. He was 57 and a widower. While the content of our lives would fuse, mingle and blend, one thing would remain the same: my name. I always thought there was something a bit mutton-dressed-up-as-lamb about a middle-aged woman…

I want life to remain pretty much the same — Today I’m fully vaccinated. Watch out world, here I come!…. (I wish you could hear how loudly my husband is laughing at this.) As it turns out, I’m putting my toe very tentatively, slowly, warily back into . . . what exactly? — normal life? No. Gathering with people indoors…

What if children are the sages we try to return to as adults? — When I was about five, I’d sit in front of a mirror and stare at myself. Stare and stare and stare at a small brunette body sitting on the floor in front of a full-length mirror that ran the length of a bedroom door. …

A poem — We’re all the same person, walking and wandering home — look, the eaves how they slope into the cracked streets of our neighborhoods. Cars drive over them — honk honk — to hospitals and offices, to restaurants and airports. Small bodies slip into the world; more bodies roar out while…

The Brits have streamlined the awkwardness of invitations with one word, and I want in — Consider, for a moment, these ordinary British phrases: “Fancy a coffee?” “Fancy dinner this weekend?” “Fancy a run?” Here in America, where I live, these questions would be posed differently. Watch the leads: “Would you like to get coffee this week?” or “Are you free to have dinner on Thursday?” …

To a life worth living, thank you beautiful world — The second time I lived in New York City was short. Seven months compared to the previous seven years. I left for good in 1996. Between those two residencies, I spent three years living in Seattle, with all those trees, lakes, mountains, and accessible recreation. …

A few questions to crack the hard nut of “acceptance” — If I could just accept myself for who I am. If I could just accept him/her/they for who they are. Oh, the longing to be someone better — but consider: What do we really want from a state of acceptance? What does not accepting give us that is so hard…

There is no reason so let’s stop looking for one — In my mid-40s, when I was still single after many years of being single; when I continued to hold a Never Married status in a society where people pair up and marry, I often turned to the big scratchy question of Why? Why was I single? Was I not circulating…

Pick something, anything, and stop chasing your tail — right now — It starts like this: a sunny Monday morning, the birds chirping, the air crisp, a fun weekend over my shoulder, a day filled with promise. Then I go and ruin it. Why? Because I spend too many hours wondering: What to do? What should I do right now? Next? Writing…