I got something in the mail the other day that is haunting me. I want desperately to throw it in the trash and forget about it. Maybe shred it. But I can’t, it holds some value to me. So I just keep staring at it, hoping to build up the courage to open it and find the answers, yet afraid of those very answers.
The current issue of Working Mother magazine has been sitting on counter for several days while I do my best to ignore it. I don’t even have the guts to turn it face-down to avoid the questioning headline staring me in the face. It intrigues me too much.
Seems easy enough, I should be able to flip the damn thing over. But I can’t. The cover looks like a lot of other issues on the magazine. But it’s the main headline that is eating at me. Continue reading






