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Writes of Passage, by Lynda Peer

Ride on

The first taste of freedom comes with the ability to ride a bike. As a child, you can suddenly control your own speed and destination. If you are lucky, you can ride beyond the distance of your parents’ immediate reach — maybe around the block or over a path. In middle school, a bicycle ...

By bread alone

In the freezer is one precious French roll, squirreled away to break out on a dark winter day when my soul needs a lift. When I wrapped up the roll towards the end of the summer, I never considered that it would truly be the last one. My wave of sadness isn’t for the loss of the bun, but ...

The right place

The yearly transformation doesn’t happen on a specific day. It isn’t predictable like Winter Solstice, and it always catches me off-guard. The only certainty is that sometimes during the two-week post-Christmas window, all the carefully arranged decorations suddenly will become ...

Can’t rightly say

When I was pregnant with my first child, I read everything about motherhood I could lay my hands on. Research has always been my friend when navigating unknown waters, so I convinced myself if I read enough, I would be prepared for whatever parenthood threw my way. In my misguided quest, I ...

The countdown

By this time in elementary school, paper chain-making would begin. These were not beautiful color-sequenced Pinterest-worthy garlands. Instead, they were constructed from odd colors of faded construction paper, haphazardly cut and held together with delicious mint-flavored white paste. Each ...

Thankful and misty eyed

Some of my friends diligently post a gratitude message each November day. Several times I have considered this habit and rejected it. My life is definitely full of 30 things to be grateful for, but I am a procrastinator. I might think about performing this task in September and again in ...