Nicole Murphy 
My mind wanders as I think of all of the changes she has coming soon. Confirmation. High school. Driving. The middle school years lull you into thinking that time is still moving at a slower pace, but then the leaps into adulthood begin in earnest.
It may be a slower process than we would like to forge new close friendships, but it will come.
21 years ago, we took a premarital inventory as part of our marriage preparation. When we met with the priest to review our answers, he told us that we scored a B on compatibility.
“No one should have to do this alone, and I’m not going to let you,” I was told as I was handed my favorite smoothie.
The Welsh word “Hiraeth” means, “a homesickness for a home to which you cannot return, a home which maybe never was; the nostalgia, the yearning, the grief for the lost places of your past.”
My own childhood experience with Lent was tuna casserole and murky theology.
Sifting through photo albums and other memorabilia from my mother’s estate has been more of a slog than a joy, if I’m honest.
