Who am I when my kids don't need me?
By Tammy Kleinman. We laugh at the futile, everyday struggle.
By Tammy Kleinman. Picking in the orchard, she chooses the ripest berries—the succulent, dripping fruits that drop effortlessly into her palm. I can see her struggling to resist a taste. This is what she wants, and yet, maybe not yet. Maybe she can wait.