“They are my world. How do I make them dead?” This is Sonali Deraniyagala’s thought after losing her husband Steve, their two sons, and her parents to a tsunami.
Every story, every essay we write is a journey. It starts here, goes along for a while, and ends where we say it ends. But what if we start this journey with no idea where it’s going?
My family always drove by car. Road trips were the only kind of vacation I knew. Surviving out of a cooler (often making sandwiches with soggy American cheese) and making the most of time with Road Bingo and other car games.