We pick up the soft, yellow-blonde puppy on a Sunday afternoon. My daughter, almost four, and my son, 18 months, can’t help but reach their chubby arms into the cardboard box between their car seats, shrieking happily every time the puppy moves, or licks them,...

It all begins with the gift of a hat. I am slowly, mindlessly wandering through store after store in a mall. For the first time in nine years, I have time to look around, quietly perusing a shiny piece of art, touching soft sweaters, taking time...