291
Aug 17, 2018
On the other side of a migraine, my Riley begins to sing: From the ash I am born again Forever safe in the Savior’s hands I stop folding and let the warm towel fall from my fingers, listening. She missed worship today, let her head fall like a rock on my shoulder during the opening […]
292
Aug 10, 2018
“There will be a lot of hugs today,” she says, drawing me in with arms growing long enough to catch the world. Her brassy hair falls against my cheek and lightly tickles my hands as I press them into her back. I count her ribs, the knobby vertebrae in her spine. She feels strong, solid, […]
293
Aug 3, 2018
After supper and all our lingering, we wander from the table on the porch like suddenly unmoored boats, drifting away beneath the glow of the twinkle lights. Our conversation fades with a last few dropped notes above the drone of the cicadas and the clatter of silverware against our plates as we collect the remnants […]
294
Jul 27, 2018
In the balmy, breezy afternoon, as the wind chimes tinkle and bong and birds chirp at the feeders, we make time for listening. We slide our chairs away from the table, gathering crumbs on our fingers, dropping them lightly on the crumpled napkins left discarded on our plates. The hour smells of sun and mellowing […]
295
Jul 20, 2018
It requires a good washing to ready the planks. From inside, where I scrub unseen demons from our stainless steel sink, rubbing at the curves, pressing down with my fingers, I hear the steady pounding of water. I hear the rapid smack against the windows, the siding, the beams. The word wash feels too soft, […]
296
Jul 13, 2018
In the beginning, nothing. I stand at the edge of a wide, blank canvas. From the street, as the first light cracks open the sky, I only see a broad, smooth, sandy plain, and beyond this, a dazzling sheet of silver glass. For a number of days, I disconnect everything and step away, wiping it […]
297
Jul 6, 2018
In the blaze of afternoon, we slide our chairs up to the table, turning coffee mugs with our fingers, light and quick. Let me look at you, I think, but I don’t say it aloud; my teenager finds overt attention awkward. I want to say “parenty” things she will not believe until she sits at a […]
298
Jun 22, 2018
Friday morning, while the light’s still new, Adam slides his Father’s Day gift out of hiding. “Play golf,” Adam says, pausing the game he’s playing on the Xbox, sauntering over to where Kevin and I stand talking, dropping the words like a couple of coins in Kevin’s palm. Adam watches our faces, looking for something–a […]
299
Jun 1, 2018
Early morning and the way feels long, as though I’ve meandered for miles without a full inhale, and my finger pauses over this verse: “When Pharaoh let the people go, God did not lead them on the road through the Philistine country, though that was shorter (Exodus 13:17).” I imagine the way those freed women felt, wrapping […]
300
May 25, 2018
Knife taps against cutting board and the onion cries. The delicate scarlet rings fall, hiding the slicing scars, all those crisscrossed lines like a haphazard tally of breaths. If only the flavors–peppery and sun-soaked and honey-sweet–lasted as long as the evidence of our cooking. A sigh slips as I turn my burning eyes away from the […]