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“There should be a place where only the things you want to happen, happen”
― Where the Wild Things Are
― Where the Wild Things Are
“Mama,” the child exclaimed, breathless and agitated.
Phoebe looked down at him in concern. “Justin, what is it?”
“Galoshes brought me a dead mouse. She dropped it on the floor right in front of me!”
“Oh, dear.” Tenderly Phoebe smoothed his dark, ruffled hair. “I’m afraid that’s what cats do. She thought it was a fine gift.”
“Nanny won’t touch it, and the housemaid screamed, and I had a fight with Ivo.”
Although Phoebe’s younger brother Ivo was technically Justin’s uncle, the boys were close enough in age to play together and quarrel.
“About the mouse?” Phoebe asked sympathetically.
“No, before the mouse. Ivo said there’s going to be a honeymoon and I can’t go because it’s for grownups.” The boy tilted his head back to look up at her, his lower lip quivering. “You wouldn’t go to the honeymoon without me, would you, Mama?”
“Darling, we’ve made no plans to travel yet. There’s too much to be done here, and we all need time to settle in. Perhaps in the spring—”
“Dad wouldn’t want to leave me behind. I know he wouldn’t!”
In the electrified silence that followed, Tom shot a glance at West, who looked blank and startled.
Slowly Phoebe lowered to the ground until her face was level with her son’s. “Do you mean Uncle West?” she asked gently. “Is that what you’re calling him now?”
Justin nodded. “I don’t want him to be my uncle—I already have too many of those. And if I don’t have a dad, I’ll never learn how to tie my shoes.”
Phoebe began to smile. “Why not call him Papa?” she suggested.
“If I did, you’d never know which one I was talking about,” Justin said reasonably, “the one in heaven or the one down here.”
Phoebe let out a breath of amusement. “You’re right, my clever boy.”
Justin looked up at the tall man beside him with a flicker of uncertainty. “I can call you Dad … can’t I? Do you like that name?”
A change came over West’s face, his color deepening, small muscles contorting with some powerful emotion. He snatched Justin up, one of his large hands clasping the small head as he kissed his cheek. “I love that name,” West said unsteadily. “I love it.” The boy’s arms went around his neck.
“Can we go to Africa for our honeymoon, Dad?” he heard Justin ask.
“Yes,” came West’s muffled voice.
“Can I have a pet crocodile, Dad?”
“Yes.”
Phoebe produced a handkerchief from seemingly out of nowhere and tucked it discreetly into one of West’s hands.”
― Chasing Cassandra
Phoebe looked down at him in concern. “Justin, what is it?”
“Galoshes brought me a dead mouse. She dropped it on the floor right in front of me!”
“Oh, dear.” Tenderly Phoebe smoothed his dark, ruffled hair. “I’m afraid that’s what cats do. She thought it was a fine gift.”
“Nanny won’t touch it, and the housemaid screamed, and I had a fight with Ivo.”
Although Phoebe’s younger brother Ivo was technically Justin’s uncle, the boys were close enough in age to play together and quarrel.
“About the mouse?” Phoebe asked sympathetically.
“No, before the mouse. Ivo said there’s going to be a honeymoon and I can’t go because it’s for grownups.” The boy tilted his head back to look up at her, his lower lip quivering. “You wouldn’t go to the honeymoon without me, would you, Mama?”
“Darling, we’ve made no plans to travel yet. There’s too much to be done here, and we all need time to settle in. Perhaps in the spring—”
“Dad wouldn’t want to leave me behind. I know he wouldn’t!”
In the electrified silence that followed, Tom shot a glance at West, who looked blank and startled.
Slowly Phoebe lowered to the ground until her face was level with her son’s. “Do you mean Uncle West?” she asked gently. “Is that what you’re calling him now?”
Justin nodded. “I don’t want him to be my uncle—I already have too many of those. And if I don’t have a dad, I’ll never learn how to tie my shoes.”
Phoebe began to smile. “Why not call him Papa?” she suggested.
“If I did, you’d never know which one I was talking about,” Justin said reasonably, “the one in heaven or the one down here.”
Phoebe let out a breath of amusement. “You’re right, my clever boy.”
Justin looked up at the tall man beside him with a flicker of uncertainty. “I can call you Dad … can’t I? Do you like that name?”
A change came over West’s face, his color deepening, small muscles contorting with some powerful emotion. He snatched Justin up, one of his large hands clasping the small head as he kissed his cheek. “I love that name,” West said unsteadily. “I love it.” The boy’s arms went around his neck.
“Can we go to Africa for our honeymoon, Dad?” he heard Justin ask.
“Yes,” came West’s muffled voice.
“Can I have a pet crocodile, Dad?”
“Yes.”
Phoebe produced a handkerchief from seemingly out of nowhere and tucked it discreetly into one of West’s hands.”
― Chasing Cassandra
“My belief is that when you're telling the truth, you're close to God. If you say to God, "I am exhausted and depressed beyond words, and I don't like You at all right now, and I recoil from most people who believe in You," that might be the most honest thing you've ever said. If you told me you had said to God, "It is all hopeless, and I don't have a clue if You exist, but I could use a hand," it would almost bring tears to my eyes, tears of pride in you, for the courage it takes to get real-really real. It would make me want to sit next to you at the dinner table.
So prayer is our sometimes real selves trying to communicate with the Real, with Truth, with the Light. It is us reaching out to be heard, hoping to be found by a light and warmth in the world, instead of darkness and cold. Even mushrooms respond to light - I suppose they blink their mushroomy eyes, like the rest of us.
Light reveals us to ourselves, which is not always so great if you find yourself in a big disgusting mess, possibly of your own creation. But like sunflowers we turn toward light. Light warms, and in most cases it draws us to itself. And in this light, we can see beyond our modest receptors, to what is way beyond us, and deep inside.”
― Help Thanks Wow: The Three Essential Prayers
So prayer is our sometimes real selves trying to communicate with the Real, with Truth, with the Light. It is us reaching out to be heard, hoping to be found by a light and warmth in the world, instead of darkness and cold. Even mushrooms respond to light - I suppose they blink their mushroomy eyes, like the rest of us.
Light reveals us to ourselves, which is not always so great if you find yourself in a big disgusting mess, possibly of your own creation. But like sunflowers we turn toward light. Light warms, and in most cases it draws us to itself. And in this light, we can see beyond our modest receptors, to what is way beyond us, and deep inside.”
― Help Thanks Wow: The Three Essential Prayers
“Do not fall in love with people like me.
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.”
― Literary Sexts: A Collection of Short & Sexy Love Poems
I will take you to museums, and parks, and monuments, and kiss you in every beautiful place, so that you can never go back to them without tasting me like blood in your mouth.
I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible. And when I leave you will finally understand, why storms are named after people.”
― Literary Sexts: A Collection of Short & Sexy Love Poems
Bio-Med Book Club
— 176 members
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Reading and discussing plain language books about science and medicine. Goals are enjoyment and education. Degrees and expertise NOT required. We meet ...more
Children's Books
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— last activity Jul 29, 2026 08:13AM
From picture books and early readers, to chapter books and middle grade novels, the colorful world of children's books provides us with inspiration at ...more
Books: Passports to the World Challenge
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— last activity Aug 08, 2013 04:19PM
If you've always wanted to travel, but it's just not in the budget, this challenge is for you. The goal of the Books: Passports to the World challenge ...more
Grandmother Garden
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— last activity Nov 16, 2014 11:52AM
Share books you love(d) to read with your grandparents or grandchildren.
Artful Aging
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— last activity Nov 11, 2016 04:23PM
Aging well, creativity, compassion, caregiving, and flourishing at any age.
Rebecca’s 2025 Year in Books
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