Like many women my age, I am 28 years old.

Like many women my age, I am 28 years old.

I couldn't have foreseen all the good things that have followed my mother's death. The renewed energy, the surprising sweetness of grief. The tenderness I feel for strangers on walkers. The deeper love I have for my siblings and friends. The desire to play the mandolin. The gift of a visitation.

Here's a thing about the death of your mother, or anyone else you love: You can't anticipate how you'll feel afterward. People will tell you a few may be close to right, none exactly right.

A line from one of my 1997 columns - 'Do one thing every day that scares you' - is now widely attributed to Eleanor Roosevelt, though I have yet to see any evidence that she ever said it and I don't believe she did. She said some things about fear, but not that thing.

For some Chicago expats, food is the medicine that blunts the pain of separation.

Don't waste time on jealousy. Sometimes you're ahead, sometimes you're behind.

The movies we love and admire are to some extent a function of who we are when we see them.

You can map your life through your favorite movies, and no two people's maps will be the same.

You can figure out who you were by which movies you loved when.