The weather. Tomorrow, expect a biting cold front. Hmm, how naughty. I wonder what I'll be

wearing or taking off. The night will be wild and untamed. Expect heavy, lashing rain that'll soak

you to the skin. By Monday, temperatures will rise slowly but surely reaching their peak in the

afternoon. Not in the afternoon.

Not in the mood for miserable weather?

Fly cheaply to Turkey with Sun Express.

Sun Express, non-stop sunshine.

I'm Maggie Smith, and this is the slowdown. Names are so powerful. Names are so powerful. They give you a sense of belonging.

I'm always curious about the names parents choose for their children

and the terms of endearment they use for loved ones.

I call my daughter Sissa, for example.

I suppose it began because she's the big sister in the family.

My name is Maggie, not Margaret, just Maggie.

But the name I hear most often on a daily basis might be mom.

I have my children to thank for that name because they made me a mother.

In this way, we birthed each other, and we continue to shape each other over the years.

Surely I would be different if I had different children. Surely they would be different if I had different children.

Surely they would be different with other parents.

Today's incredibly moving poem is about fathers and sons and estrangement and connection.

I also think it's about starting anew with our own children and giving them what they need, no matter what we received or didn't, from our own parents.

The Night Angler by Jeffrey Davis.

Dear Boy

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