Adam and I wait, car idling in the driveway, until Riley hurries out, shoes in hand, a pair of socks tucked in like a stowaway. The necklace she plans to wear dangles in the crook of one elbow, and she shivers, because I already brought her jacket out to the car. I admit it, I […]

Early morning, thick dark, and I switch on a lamp, like a lantern burning through a dead fog. Greedily, I sip my coffee, steam curling around my chin, and I wonder how to begin. I feel pulled, yanked even, and this morning, I’m digging in my heels. I really don’t want to do this week. […]

Riley walks in carrying her hairbrush in one hand. She’s still in pajamas–soft black, printed with dozens of unblinking owls keeping watch. Her plump, bare feet lightly thwick against the linoleum. She finds me half-together, though to say that can be misleading, since I am never really all put together. Every morning I dress in […]

Christmas Steve began years ago, merely a quip in response to Riley’s running Advent countdown. “Just 8 more days until Christmas,” she will say, standing at attention beside the white board, holding her dry erase marker like a wand, shaking it in the air for emphasis.  Riley considers calendar-keeping critical to her sanity, and at […]

In the black stillness of morning, I groan, thrusting my toes out into the cold that has settled on the room.  I have no choice but to get up, so I throw off the covers and slide out of bed, meandering around the Christmas tree to feel for the plug.  Let there be light.  I gaze […]

Rushing out of one appointment and late to another, I discover the text: Riley had a seizure. And in one second flat, I feel as though some vile bully just ran by and pushed me off my careful balance, and that even with my angry, road-scratched palms, I am somehow responsible for the world.  Alone.  […]

From my office, I heard their voices, the soft, deep rumble of Father training son. “Do you still need Lantus?” Kevin asked Adam, who grunted over the forced pause.  What is it about us that we resent the time it takes to grow? Lantus is to long-release insulin what Kleenex is to tissue, merely a […]

I hear her through the wall, the rhythmic way she flicks the light switch on off on off on off. “Okay.  Okie dokie,” I hear her say.  “Okay.  Okie dokie.  Okay, and yes, I the lights are off.” I hear the thwoosh of a tissue jerked from the tissue box so purposefully that the decorative acrylic cover […]

Saturday morning, Adam walks downstairs wearing his football jersey, which is blue like the crisp Fall sky, blue like his eyes.  I say walk, but his steps have a certain bounce that matches his wide smile. Maybe autism steals away my son’s words, but Adam’s body has always found its own ways to convey what […]

I hear my son before I see him.  I know by heart the specific sound of his long, flat feet on the hardwood floor at the base of the stairs; I know the circuitous, spinning route he takes from one room to another, checking for me, checking for signs that nothing unexpected has altered the […]