Joy Matheson

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“Mom! Reeve still believes in SANTA!” River whispered as if sharing a scandal.    I considered River’s words as I handed him a plate of peanut butter Ritz crackers, his favorite after school snack.    Fourth grade DID seem a bit old for Reeve to believe in the jolly, fat guy. I feared he would

The perfect Thanksgiving bite? It’s a fork full of turkey, drowned in cranberry sauce, coated with stuffing and then smothered with mashed potatoes. Ahhhh… that bite tastes like happiness and bounty all in one.    It was in anticipation of this perfect bite that on November 23, 2006, me, my young husband, and our two-week-old

He was cold and badly crippled as he leaned over his wheelchair, dirty hand jutting out a sign.   Feeling horrible, with not even an apple to share, I lowered the window of my heated car.   “What do you need?”   It was a sincere question, and his answer humbled me to my core.

Windows now side by side, I rolled mine down, unaware of the danger in the eyes that awaited me…