Last week, I shared excerpts from Black writers and thinkers whose work has taught me something. I wondered whether I should — would this be seen as performative activism? Virtue signaling? Maybe. But it was my attempt to respond in grief and sympathy for what Black people in our country…

When my parents moved in with us in 2015, I expected there’d be adjustments. I knew we’d have to set expectations about how often we’d eat together, how we’d handle shared household expenses, what temperature to set the thermostat. My dad was already ill, and I knew it would be…

Today, I read about a man in Los Angeles who cares for terminally ill foster children. At a time when anti-Muslim rhetoric is everywhere, it is especially beautiful to read about how Mohamed Bzeek’s work was sparked by his wife’s passion and is sustained from his devout Muslim faith. This…

When we were getting ready to move, my 10-year-old daughter and I walked through the new house just after closing. That day, as we went from empty room to empty room, we talked about where the furniture would go and which walls we would paint. …

In graduate school, I learned a little bit about a lot of different theories that have been in fashion over the last century or so of literary criticism. …

Every year at Thanksgiving, when we gather with my husband’s parents and sisters and their families, we have a group of 8 kids between us. …

In 1992, the summer after 8th grade, I went on a school trip to Germany. We spent three weeks in a small town near Cologne — a place that had developed a relationship with our German department’s lead teacher. Every two years, a group of 8th and 9th graders made…