321
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 […]
322
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 […]
323
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. […]
324
Nov 2, 2018
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 […]
325
Oct 26, 2018
In the last gasp of day, Kevin and I wind our way along unknown streets, all squeaky springs and clacking chains. These bicycles are the picture-postcard kind, sherbet-colored, lemon and mint, with earthy baskets bobbing at the front. I imagine mine brimming with trailing flowers like they do in greeting card photographs, except that would […]
326
Oct 19, 2018
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 […]
327
Oct 5, 2018
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 […]
328
Sep 28, 2018
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 […]
329
Sep 21, 2018
Just awake and still unwilling to peel back the covers, I rub the sleep from my eyes, giving thanks for rest. My phone, flipped on its face on the bedside table, begins to vibrate and jump like an insect trapped and beating against the window. “What is going on?” Kevin says, stirring beside me. I […]
330
Sep 14, 2018
As long as I lay down and drink rivers of water, I can avoid the spinal headache, that thunderous, gripping madman storming through my mind bent on dropping me to my knees. It broods, heavy, hiding behind some banded muscle with its club lifted, daring me to move. This, then, is the valley. From here, […]