161Sep 14, 2012
Sometimes the thief comes early, sliding into our sleep, wrapping his black fingers tight around our throats. Â He reeks of murderous jealousy, the kind that killed Abel, the kind that taints every breath and sits heavy on the heart. Zoe stands in front of the dry erase board, not yet fully awake, her hair a […]
162Sep 7, 2012
Clouds the deepest gray, hovering close, and I gather myself into the van to retrieve my children, preparing for the storm. Â It will rain soon, and hard. Â I can smell it. And I never have enough for this part of the day. Honestly, I laugh and sometimes cry whenever I hear that someone thinks I […]
163Aug 3, 2012
Sunday, she jams all of her money into a fish. Â Three dollar bills, 2 quarters, 5 pennies, 9 nickels, and one dime—I watch her push it all deep inside with two fingers, hurried, urgent. My mom gave her the change purse for just this purpose. Â That one dime lodges in the innards of the fish […]
164Jul 20, 2012
High tide, and the waves curl deep, pounding the sand into a cliff at the break line. I sit watching one shore break after another, absorbing powerful beauty, the explosion of white caps, hard and close. I would love these waves if they broke a little further out and I could ride them in fast […]
165Jul 13, 2012
Five o’clock on the beach, and the light falls soft and golden on our shoulders. It doesn’t escape me that on normal days, this hour finds me weary and pushing through, juggling homework and dinner and a thousand other things, counting the moments until I can sit down. Â Usually around five I can feel the […]
166Apr 6, 2012
Today, Adam walks inside smelling of grass, his sharp, blue eyes fastened on me, his stride purposeful. “Hi,” I say, wondering. Â Is this the day for one of his (His) surprises? “Hi, Mommy,” He says, waving one hand a little. Â Then he bends down and kisses me. And I am blown, like the withered petals […]
167Mar 30, 2012
We are not an easy family to love. I mean, even for us the loving isn’t always easy. We are difficult, tired, a ball of chaos with accessories. Everywhere we go, there are tote bags filled with an eccentric conglomeration of things—our accoutrements, I call them: stuffed monkeys and calculators; dry erase markers, insulin pens, […]
168Mar 16, 2012
It’s as though every day is the first time I’ve met God, the first time I’ve loved Him. I wake up and I can’t remember who I am, or that I’m abundantly blessed. Â I feel trapped in the weary, aware of the walls that surround me, boxed in and dull. Â And then He shows me […]
169Mar 9, 2012
I know how you feel. Days come when I wake up and think, I don’t want to do this. I feel like the husk of a woman, emptied. I am clay, a bowl dusty from the kiln, all scooped out by the master’s hand and cooling in the ashes.  With His fingers He has crumbled and […]
170Feb 10, 2012
Thursday morning, I push a table knife right through the bottom of a glass jelly jar. Nothing shatters. Â Nothing cracks. Â The knife jabs in more deeply than it should. Â And turning the jar upward on a diagonal, I see the flat, silver, jelly-smeared tip of my knife jutting messy through a rounded, toothless gape, all […]