Heather is an essayist, editor, CMO, mommy, and wife seeking stillness while in a state
of nearly constant motion. She lives, walks, and eats in the greatest city in the world: Chicago.
It’s not just the fashion of The West Wing that feels distant; it’s the seriousness. The level of discourse. The respect for knowledge, for history, for precedent. The willingness to engage thoughtfully with opposing views. To rise above. To demonstrate care.
Read MoreFor every insecure, orange-tinted man whose only feeble-minded defense is name-calling female reporters, I hope my boys see how their incredible teachers model patience and grace and show up with empathy and enthusiasm every day. How they build up their students and demonstrate respectful dialogue between classmates, helping make our school a safe place for everyone, no matter which boxes they check on census data sheets.
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The 5 Love Languages (and its many sequels, including The 5LL of Children) have sold more than 20 million copies. Clearly, people are looking for something.
I sometimes poke fun at this armchair psychology, but despite actual scientific evidence to the contrary, it still rings true for me. My love language? Care and Feeding.
Read MoreAbout once a year, I scroll through the last few weeks of emails, maybe a month’s worth if I’m feeling ambitious, and then: delete all. Thousands of unread, unimportant, outdated messages vanish with one click. Is it a permanent solution? No.
Read MoreI put up the Christmas tree on November 30th this year, couldn’t wait. Something about the way the air changed, the early dark, the heaviness I’d been carrying around like a second coat... I needed twinkle lights and garland now, not in two weeks, not after the rush of shopping or the wrapping of deadlines. I needed to believe I could manufacture cheer from muscle memory.
Read MoreFor many years, we’ve traveled for the Thanksgiving holiday and had the honor of being guests at my cousin’s table for the big event. When we arrive in Ohio, my family makes a complicated day look effortless. The turkey is perfect, as are the mashed potatoes. Gravy is carefully prepared, and there are always these great pecan rolls from a local bakery that we try to snatch before we actually sit down to eat. The table looks lovely, and it’s so special. Like I said, they make it look easy.
Read MoreHere’s how I always pictured it:
I’m downtown, meeting someone for lunch or something at the Art Institute, and since I arrived early, I duck into a coffee shop for a little treat. As I reach for the door, it opens, and there you are. You’re holding a cup with a tea bag hanging out the top, and I remember, not for the first time, my disbelief that you never liked coffee. But all the same, there you are.
A perfect skewer. A warm loaf of bread shared at twilight. A family-favorite cheese ball in a vintage bowl. The kinds of things that never go out of style.
Read MoreWhat I have now isn’t the same kind of freedom I had in my twenties, but it’s a richer one, forged by love, loss, endurance, and a deeper knowing of what it costs to make space for yourself.
Read MoreI mark time by what’s happening in our backyard—the flowers in bloom, the worn patch of grass where my son kicks his soccer ball, the sounds of summer carried through an open window. Some seasons feel slower than others, quieter in ways I don’t always expect.
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