I have a fondness for writing about precocious, troubled teenagers, who are alienating, but kind of endearing. It's from remembering so clearly that time in my own life. I experienced myself as more dramatically troubled than I was, but I just remember how it felt. Ann Hood alienatedramaticallyendear share on social
Dead bodies do get a grayish blue/purple hue because blood pools in the capillaries and the body starts to decompose. It's not smurf blue, but it's not a pleasant shade. Ann Hood bloodbluebody Change image and share on social
Grief doesn't have a plot. It isn't smooth. There is no beginning and middle and end. Ann Hood beginendgrief Change image and share on social
When I began my career as a flight attendant, I was a 21-year-old with a B.A. in English and stars in her eyes. I wanted to see every city in the world. I wanted to have adventures that, I hoped, would fuel a writing career some day. Ann Hood adventureattendantbegin share on social
I have learned that there is more power in a good strong hug than in a thousand meaningful words. Ann Hood goodhuglearn Change image and share on social
God does give us more than we can bear sometimes. Ann Hood beargivegod Change image and share on social
When I was seven years old, I fell in love with a series published by Bobbs-Merrill called 'The Childhood of Famous Americans.' In it, historical figures like Clara Barton, Nancy Hanks, Elias Howe, Patrick Henry, and dozens more came to life for me as children. Ann Hood americanbartonbobbs share on social
I learned to knit in 2002, six months after my 5-year-old daughter, Grace, died suddenly from a virulent form of strep. I was unable to read or write, and friends suggested I take up knitting; almost immediately I fell under its spell. Ann Hood daughterdiefall share on social
My daughter, Grace, was not killed by a gun. She died suddenly at age 5 from a virulent form of strep. As I stood stunned in a church at her memorial, one of the hardest things I heard someone say was, 'I'm going to go home and hug my child a little tighter.' 'Well, good for you,' I thought. 'I'm going to go home and scream.' Ann Hood agechildchurch share on social
If watching your child die is a parent's worst nightmare, imagine having to tell your other child that his sister is dead... Although I am certain that he cried, that we all cried, what I remember more is how we collapsed into each other, as if the weight of our loss literally crushed us. Ann Hood badchildcollapse share on social