161
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 […]
162
Apr 13, 2018
Kevin walks in the door and the afternoon rushes right in with him. It’s as though the jostling traffic, the dying sun, and dozens of fading fragments of conversation cling to his shirt sleeves, his warm cheeks. They fall off his shoulders, these things, as the strap from his leather bag falls to the floor […]
163
Jan 12, 2018
Adam sloshes the rag around the sink, holding a corner with two fingers, dragging the cloth by the neck like some vile, unwanted thing. He tried to convince me we did not have to do this. “Already clean the bathroom,” he said, and on the floor, I could see an antibacterial wipe that missed the […]
164
Nov 17, 2017
Ready to leave, and I touch his arm, just two of my fingers, gentle, against the bony jut of his elbow. “Don’t you want a jacket?” I ask instead of tell, because this is not a life-threatening situation, and because choices facilitate growth; the understanding that someone else can have a broader perspective, that Love […]
165
Sep 16, 2016
“I love you.” He says it slowly, the way he says everything, but lifting the word you, as if in emphasis. It’s not enough just to fling the words into the air above her head and walk away. He knows this. Purposefulness has been a recent goal. So instead, Adam bends his lean frame toward the […]
166
Jul 29, 2016
Show time, and my friend’s four year-old daughter refuses to sing. From where I sit some rows back from the stage, I have the perfect view of her eyes—wide, expressive, and determined; dark pools surrounded by sweetness. She frowns, one of those grimaces that betrays an effort to remain fierce and resolute, shaking her head […]
167
Jul 1, 2016
They cast a long shadow on the lawn, all legs, son in so many ways like his father. It’s striking. Nothing really prepares a mother for the moments when she looks at her children and sees something of the adults they’re becoming, the careful sculpting of the future. No matter how broad those shoulders get, I […]
168
Aug 7, 2015
Stinging words curl through the grapevine like searing smoke, and I gasp, suffocating. I am distracted by a black storm, by the flicking tongue of a squint-eyed snake bent on spreading its own dark poison. The deception threatens the fixing of my eyes. Except. Except that God is my Father. And He hasn’t left me […]
169Mar 27, 2015
Walking behind him, I can see clearly that his jeans only just reach his ankles. The nurse talks over her shoulder—okay, follow me and then some small talk about the weather, the red file folder jutting out, an extension of her hand that messes up all the angles. She fills the space with words so light […]
170Dec 19, 2014
In the moonlight, her eyes sparkle. She never wears makeup, doesn’t really even prefer it, but she made a concession tonight, for dance. Just now, as we leave the building, a brisk wind lifts a few errant strands of hair away from her ears. The stars rest glittery on her cheeks. I hold the door, […]