Stories help us incorporate memories and traditions into our family. They help us know who we are.

The other night our son was outside with his father, scanning the heavens, when a shooting star streaked across the sky.

Even with all the worry about the weather, we got in a beautiful night of trick-or-treating, winding our way through our Halloween-happy neighborhood.

Rain is in the forecast for Halloween night, so our neighborhood created a poll. Suddenly, I found I was allowed to vote on which night Halloween would be.

Our friend Theresa invited us to go to the Maryland Million with her, so our boys and I headed down to Laurel for a few hours at the races.

Maybe there’s a little extra wonder when we almost overlook that evolution—in nature and even in ourselves.

Six weeks or so into the school year I’m feeling a little out of my depth.

It was a simple exchange—but I was struck by the power and the beauty of that interaction between a husband and wife.

Fall is such a beautiful season. I do love the mums and the pumpkins and the wondering when my children will tell me what they want to be for Halloween so we can make a mad dash to the store to find costumes.

We want to believe the sun will rise tomorrow and we’ll embrace the fullness of another day. We must live life with that hope. There is no other way.