271
Feb 1, 2019
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. […]
272
Jan 18, 2019
Early morning quiet and steam dances and curls over the cup, and I sit listening. The many sounds of silence include the voice of God, and His Word always changes things. I scribble the date in my journal and begin to write, glancing back to the Bible still open in my lap. The cover and […]
273
Jan 11, 2019
From my bedroom, where I stand folding clothes, pressing my mama hands flat against warm shirts, smoothing out the lines, I can hear Zoe laughing. That laugh of hers, it’s like the wings of a thousand birds flying free. Her door is closed, but I know that when I tap my fingers against it; when […]
274
Jan 4, 2019
I admit it: I don’t want to go. Here I sit at my computer, working, checking things off of my list. More, I strike them through with satisfaction. Those lines, they could be the slashed out edges of me, the angles of my shoulders, the sharp bones of my cheeks. Sometimes I mark my identity […]
275
Dec 28, 2018
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 […]
276
Dec 14, 2018
The King rose from the feast table, an action that made everyone suddenly alert. Words died in the air, only half spoken. They watched while he removed his robe, and with it, they felt, his dignity. But more alarming than his sudden nakedness was the costume he next chose. The King picked up a towel, […]
277
Dec 7, 2018
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 […]
278
Nov 30, 2018
“Aren’t you in the wrong seat?” my friend says, her grin wide, calling out to Zoe. Funny thing is, I’m the only one in the car who feels misplaced. The sky glittered with stars, and we walked through the parking lot, and I saw Zoe turn to look at me, tucking a length of brassy […]
279
Nov 16, 2018
“Who are these for?” Zoe asks, watching as I pour caramel sauce into dessert cups. The sticky, golden ribbons slide off of the end of the spoon, pooling. She’s grinning, tossing the words as though in joust. “Well,” I begin, carefully dipping the spoon back into the pot for more of the buttery sweet. But […]
280
Nov 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. […]