71Feb 19, 2021
I don’t know her name–not the sound of her voice, not even the shape of her smile. As it is these days, because of the mask she wears, her eyes—dark and determined and locked on mine–are all I know of her, those eyes and that hair, curling dark around her head in short, wild corkscrews. […]
72Feb 12, 2021
It starts as a joke, Kevin drawing Adam back after we finish cleaning the kitchen and Adam starts the nightly pilgrimage to his sanctum sanctorum; Kevin asking Adam to give all the things Adam is withholding–a hug, a backscratch, a bit of lingering attention. Adam endures, but only with perfunctory investment–the hug, light and limp, […]
73Jan 15, 2021
Frosty morning, and I sit by the fire still sleepy, wrapped cozy and soft, protectively sheltered like some valuable thing. I want to call this a deception, the layered swaddling of cushioning warmth–not just the clothing, the blanket, the velvety socks on my feet but the tissue, the skin, as though admitting my soul deep […]
74Dec 18, 2020
The tags on Riley’s packages begin at the bow and wrap around the side, a thin white stripe, carefully taped. She writes sentences, not only the typical to and from, and because of this, sticker tags won’t do. To the man who likes to relax in front of the TV who is named Opa Jones, […]
75Nov 6, 2020
Riley laughs like the captive of a tickling phantom, doubled over, hilarious joy bubbling over in snickering and snorting and giggling so hard her cheeks flush pink and she gasps for breath. I told her she was our herald, but the way she’s laughing, I know she heard Harold, because nothing’s funnier to Riley than […]
76Oct 23, 2020
Upstairs, I fill a basket with the things Riley will need after her shower–hairbrush, deodorant, pajamas. I tap my fingers on plastic, rub them against soft fabric, ticking off items by touch. I consider the warmth of the night air, how Riley turns on the fan even when it’s cool, how particular she will be […]
77Oct 16, 2020
When we arrive, the rustic man from whom we rented the cabin waits, rising to lumber out to the door. His eyes are blue, cool and vibrant like the snatch of sky I glimpse above the mountains. In some ways, he is those mountains, sloped and capped in silver cloud, monochrome and rumpled in the […]
78Oct 9, 2020
He doesn’t want to cut the bushes. “Please don’t cutting the bushes,” Adam says to me first thing when I walk in the kitchen on Saturday morning, bending low as though unless he’s close to my ear I might not hear, that voice of his deep and gentle. I glance at the white board where […]
79Oct 2, 2020
Over the phone, I hear in Riley’s voice what I cannot see, the flush in her cheeks, the way she pushes imagined stray hairs away from her forehead, the way the tears spill and slide. Her words come out loud and rushing, like rapids overwhelming a dam. “Tell me what happened,” I say, wanting her […]
80Sep 25, 2020
I notice it in the morning on the way to school, the careful way Riley places her finger at the top left corner of her cell phone, straight pointing like a plumb line, the excruciatingly slow way she then drags her finger along the edge, as though it were a pen making an invisible outline […]