It still feels shameful to admit, I wet the bed till I was nine years old. I keep reading how sharing your story helps others from feeling alone. (And we all know a few things about loneliness.) But my story always sounds so embarrassing to me—even downright disgusting to repeat. Funny, how I didn’t think…
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I called my Mama today. It don’t matter how long it’s been since she folded my clothes—sometimes I just need my Mama. I can’t feel her hands through the phone. I miss her. I need her, but her voice will have to be enough. Affection is not something she lavishes, but if you come into…
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