The Exchange: Day 5 Age and immaturity aside, we have another obstacle to communication. Perhaps you will have guessed it by now. It is so ironic I hesitate to say. It is Le Cell. Technically, Camille does not have a… Continue reading

The larger difference, no surprise, is not the language barrier between a boy who does not speak English and a boy who does not speak French, but the world between the ages. Here, there are oceans to cross, indeed. He… Continue reading

Day 3: The Joy of (not) Cooking Strange. I’ve been to the grocery store once with Will and once with Camille, and still we have nothing to eat in the house. With William, it was a preparation expedition, before Camille’s… Continue reading

You know you’re a Burk when you’ve been in the country not three full days and you are awakened from a deep sleep by a woman holding a map in one hand and a note in the other. She is… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 2 As one would expect, it’s a little awkward when the boys meet. Two teenage boys, in a situation not of their making—one round-faced and ready for anything though it’s clear he doesn’t know what, and the… Continue reading

The Exchange: Day 1 For some reason at the Burk house, getting a foreign exchange student always involves paint. Two years ago, when our French girl came, I totally remember Sophie demanding that I finish painting the downstairs bathroom. Like,… Continue reading

In the fall of 2015, as close to my son’s birthday as I could get it wearing my universe-ordering pants, the International Men’s Bike Race came right past our street. That’s right—the 88th World Road Championship chose Virginia, zeroed in… Continue reading

You know it’s been a weird year when you pick up your boy on the last day of school and he gets in the car carrying a bag of milk. That’s right. A pint of lunch milk, poured into a… Continue reading

You would think I crawled out of a hole. Prior to this month, I could no more get a song to play on my cell phone than I could engineer cheese. Or work the “smart” TV in our living room.… Continue reading

Terra mater Gardening with mom. More like moving rocks and getting bossed around in the dirt, but I undertake it willingly on this New England weekend home. We are moving one garden, actually, from the back yard where it has… Continue reading