The cows are crying. (not a sentence I ever imagined writing)
A few times a year, our little street echoes with the bellows and moans and outright wails of distressed cows. This means that one of our farmer neighbors has separated the mamas and babies, presumably so that the babies can go to be auctioned.
The sounds of the cows are heartbreaking. I doubt they know that their babies are likely destined for a slaughterhouse, but change on any level is hard.
Continue reading “The Cows Are Crying”“There might be another way to say that,” I suggest to my child who has just bluntly announced an opinion about another child in a semi-public setting.
“It’s no big deal. It’s only one evening,” I tell my spouse when our son want to invite ten loud young adults over to hang out before they return to school when we had planned to watch a movie.
“I think we’ll have to agree to disagree,” I say to a relative with very different political leanings.
More and more, Continue reading “Playing the Peacemaker”
My Life in Paragraphs 