When you have brought up kids, there are memories you store directly in your tear ducts.
~Robert Brault, www.robertbrault.com
It was a cold New England night. I hurried out of work, then ran the few blocks from my office to the subway, barely catching the uptown train. I was bundled in a wool suit and overcoat and lugging an enormous briefcase, which was weighed down by an inordinate amount of paper. I remember sitting on the train as I caught my breath, my cheeks burning from hot blood beneath cold skin, and sweat seeping through my silk blouse. The train was crowded. Not an inch to move, to remove a layer of wool for the long ride to Grand Central...
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