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Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

“You didn’t call.”                                                     “I’m sorry,” I said. I felt bad, like I was talking to a boy in high school rather than the owner of my daughters’ overnight camp. We were standing at the buses. I’d walked over to Gabe to say hello, as I always do. But unlike the previous five years, our arrival this year[more]
Belle of the Ball

Belle of the Ball

I’d wanted a four square ball, one of the thick red rubber balls that kids use to play street games like kick the can and, as the name implies, four square. I already had the smooth kind, the wrong kind (my mother was the queen of getting me the wrong kind). I wanted the kind with grooves, the real kind that real sportsman had since I was a real sportsman. I was the only girl on a street full of[more]