Maison Tranquille

  December 31, 2025 Suite Francaise and the Question No One Can Answer in Time I’ve just finished listening to Suite Francaise by Irene Nemirovsky, a novel written during the early years of World War II and left unfinished when the author was arrested and later killed at Auschwitz.  The history of the book gives it added weight because it was written during the actual period, yet the most striking thing to me wasn’t the tragedy, but the ordinariness. This book is not really about heroes or villains in the usual sense.  It is a book about people cooking meals, worrying about money, caring for the children, negotiating with neighbors, and trying to remain themselves while history presses in from every side. As I listened, one question kept returning: Is there a moment when it becomes wiser to leave than to stay? Is it a clear decision, an act of agency, to choose to become a refugee?  Suite Francaise shows us that people rarely know when the turning point has arrived....

  December 3, 2025 Maison Tranquille The Quiet I Crave This afternoon, I noticed, an irritation,  at the sound of the television in our living room. Not the show itself but its presence… the way it intruded into the atmosphere I was holding inside. I don’t think the problem is the television. It’s that I am learning how I crave quiet space, a room that feels like a sanctuary, that protects the small rituals I’m trying to cultivate. Maison Tranquille (the name I’ve given my house) has to live inside before it can touch the outside. Peace is not always found far away.  Sometimes it is just a closed door, a lit candle, or clarity about what space belongs to what purpose. Maybe this, too, is part of aging;  learning what supports our nervous system, and what frays it.  Maybe this is part of marriage;  the negotiation between one person’s comfort and the other’s. Or maybe this is simply another invitation: Notice where your peace gets interrupted. Because that ...

11/27/2025 Main Character Energy… in a House Full of Main Characters There’s something beautiful about spending a week at the beach with a house full of family. It’s never quiet, never predictable, and never just one storyline. It’s more like an overlapping collage of happenings. And yet, in the middle of all of this, there is another version of main character energy, one that doesn’t compete with anyone else’s story. This isn’t the loud, front-and-center kind of main character energy. It’s not about being the center of attention or the person with the most star power. It’s the kind that acknowledges: I get to have my own experience here. I get to tend my own spirit. I get to enjoy this week in a way that nourishes my body, my mind, and my soul. All without stepping on anyone else’s toes. Because everyone here is the main character in their own movie. And honestly, that’s what makes it beautiful. There are all the characters, the storytellers, the planners, the cooks, the ones who ...