281
Feb 19, 2016
“One. Two. Three. Four,” She says, shuffling the cards in chunky sections that fall too quickly away from her fingers.  The cards thunk and smack against the table.  Riley has developed a ritual even for preparing the game.  She shuffles the cards six times before she deals, grinning at us as we amble to our chairs, dragging […]
282
Feb 12, 2016
There’s only ever been one perfect love; only one that didn’t come out all lopsided, with smudges all over the edges. Time races up behind me and I have no choice but to microwave the butter I forgot to take out ahead. Â I need it to cream, and ice-cold butter doesn’t cream. Â I unfold the […]
283
Jan 29, 2016
Mom, what will you write about today? Â Â Her question is a gift; a jewel in my palm. She sits at the bar looking very nearly sixteen–golden head bent over her phone and all those little flyaways catching the early light; a cup of coffee just south of her hand, steaming; a dozen bracelets sliding […]
284
Dec 25, 2015
Merry Christmas from our family to you and yours! Each time you read these posts, you give me a gift of grace, and for that I am so grateful. Â I always pray that you’ll be blessed by something you find here. Â As a family, we pray that today you–whoever and wherever you are–feel blessed and […]
285
Nov 6, 2015
She apologizes to Kevin like we autism mamas do, ignoring the sharp, slicing pain it brings just to say the words. I’m sorry, my daughter–she has autism. Â She doesn’t mean nothing by it. Â She says this gesturing over something Kevin barely noticed, a failure to say hello, a back turned, a little stumble over […]
286
Oct 23, 2015
In the crisp of morning, we wait for school, snatching glimpses toward the door.  Adam reaches for me, flicking my ear with his fingers, saying I love you in a way all his own.  He tilts his head away, his expression lost, crinkled and preoccupied.  I wonder if he contemplates the angle of the new light beaming […]
287
Oct 9, 2015
So many times this week I’ve whispered the words—running under stunning blue skies; exhaling beside grassy spaces where dewey spider webs glow like hundreds of silver threaded veils seemingly abandoned by impetuos ethereal brides; in the dying light of the afternoon, when the work still stretches, teasing at the edges of impossible. Â I say it […]
288
Sep 25, 2015
Hello there! Good morning to you, he calls. Â He has a brightness I can feel before I see him, even though I realize as I look up that his gear—suit, helmet, even the bike—is all black, like the deepest part of the night. I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been staring at the pavement, while he […]
289
Sep 4, 2015
It only takes a moment for things to crumble. At day’s end, twilight throws last rosy beams across the kitchen table, lighting up flecks of glitter melted into the clear coat years ago during some school project, making Riley’s golden flyaways shine like a gossamer crown faintly visible on her forehead. Â She has just finished […]
290
Aug 21, 2015
I walk in from my sweaty work, the pruning shears heavy in one gloved hand, the bottoms of my bare feet stinging with the heat of the sidewalk, the brick steps. Finally, I couldn’t watch the ruined blooms weigh the branches any longer, nor let them continue leaching away the sweet goodness the tiny, emergent […]