“Listen to the sound of the waves. Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Breathe out 1, 2, 3, 4. Repeat after me: I am calm. I'm at peace.” After years of forcing herself to commit to this one-minute morning meditation routine, it became a part of her survival kit for her life, though now she was no longer sitting in the overcrowded living room at 5 a.m., painfully aware of every sound in the house, scrunching her face at each little noise, thinking one—or both of the kids had woken. The ho

She stepped out onto the patio and walked past the unopened box holding the small fire pit she had purchased from Target many months before. Her first step onto the grass was nowhere near as monumental as the moment she laid down on the ground. She wore blue leggings and a white cardigan printed with a floral arrangement indicative of spring, her belly button showing, her blonde hair with orange-red chunks cascading over the grass like a silhouette breathing fire into the fal

I stood there. Looking down at my backyard. Perched on the top step leading up to my sunroom, I watched everything happening below me like I was standing outside of my own life for a second. My mother was sitting cautiously, watching my daughter’s every move, ready to lend a hand if she needed it. It was like her arms were wings wrapped around us — both of us — all of us. It was Memorial Day, a day to remember the fallen, and although my stepdad wasn’t able to hang onto his b