11Sep 13, 2019
We sit, Kevin and I, on metal locker room benches dotted with holes, our bodies carefully sandwiched between a woman in a kerchief–silver-gray hair slipping out at the edges, and a herd of boys climbing over their mother. Mom smiles weakly when we say hello, studying the numbered slip in her fingers while one of […]
12Jul 19, 2019
My friend and I, we walk, and I tell her about Riley’s last seizure, the words tumbling from my mouth in a rush. The story’s only hours old; it happened the night before, so this is how I’m doing. My friend listens intently, nodding a little in encouragement when I look at her, gasping in […]
13Jul 5, 2019
“I don’t know what to say,” Riley says, something very likely often true, only now, while my knees carve moons in the carpet beside her bed, she feels vulnerable enough to admit it. I smooth Riley’s hair with my hand, playing with the tiny, curling strands about her ears, thinking that the only thing she […]
14May 24, 2019
Impatiently, I refresh the screen, tapping my foot, jiggling the mouse with my hand. Come on, come on, come on. A few days ago, I sent Riley’s doctor a message on the patient portal, a few questions about upcoming labs and potential patterns. Sometimes parenting a child with epilepsy, especially while adjusting meds, feels like […]
15Apr 5, 2019
“I’m gonna cry,” Riley says, just as her voice begins to break. A bewildered sigh escapes, and she absently touches her own cheek, as though to catch tears that haven’t yet dripped. She has just begun to tell our small group what happened to her, about the seizure that took her from school to the […]
16Mar 29, 2019
“I’m scared,” Riley says, tears brimming in her tired eyes. I can see angry capillaries traveling like tributaries from the corners; the ocean of her grief swallows them. I want to sweep her tears away; I want to take her hand and run away from this day, this place. “To get your blood drawn?” I […]
17Dec 21, 2018
Warm greetings in the name of our Savior, Jesus Christ, wishing you success in your labors. Elisa’s letter open in my hand, I walk into the kitchen, taking in the shape of things, the accumulation of emptied lunch boxes, the scattered crumbs from my children’s after school snacks. Elisa lives in poverty in Equador, the […]
18Nov 9, 2018
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. […]
19Nov 18, 2016
I remember the year that opening gifts made my daughter weep. She stood in front of me, just there, tight blond curls falling haphazardly around her ears, belly pudging out the shirt of her Christmas pajamas, holding a silvery gift. At 3, she still didn’t understand our expectant faces, or even what made toys fun, […]
20Feb 6, 2015
“I always eat slowly right before school.” She says it quietly, when she knows I stand listening, when it’s just the two of us in the room. Two days back to school, and every morning Riley comments that she’s cold and wraps her legs with a blanket. She sometimes tries to stand so that I […]