211
Apr 27, 2018
When we round the corner, she gets up from where she sits, pushing open the door. I can see the cold, straight legs of a card table through a narrow opening; I can tell she has hair the color of straw, that she wears a rose-colored shirt. Even before she stands in the doorway holding […]
212
Apr 20, 2018
Mid-morning and they wander out to me, rested and fresh from sleep, blanket lines on their high-boned cheeks. Riley’s brassy hair swings out from her shoulders, lifted by the breeze, as she settles into the chair across from me, carrying her breakfast. “Happy birthday, Mom Jones,” she says, while Zoe gently drops a present on […]
213
Mar 23, 2018
I settle the game in front of me, sliding off the lid. The box shudders audibly, a stuttering breath, as though the insides hold more substance than half a dozen glossy, tabbed sketch books, some dry erase markers, cards. Black smudges and half-erased lines fleck the books, memories of other game nights, memories of us, […]
214
Mar 16, 2018
Into the bowling alley I go, “Saturday me” with her yoga pants and her clean face and her Mr. Rogers jacket (yes, because I wear it around the house). This is the me that’s only me, the honest introvert; the quiet, swallowed-up, zipped-up me just holding tight to God’s hand, walking through the parking lot. […]
215
Mar 9, 2018
Riley walks in the door in the afternoon, backpack slung over one shoulder, conversation and friendship glowing warm on her cheeks. It’s as though laughter rests on the tip of her tongue. “How was school?” I say, rising from the worn table where Zoe and I have been sipping coffee, where our meandering words have […]
216
Feb 23, 2018
I walk and let things go, whispered things, all the heavy and daunting things pressed against my shoulders like so much Winter weight, damp and thick and flat grey; things that cannot be at all what they seem. This weather inspires every kind of ache; all day the clouds have swallowed us. And if this […]
217
Feb 16, 2018
When I walk in the room, this is the other-worldly bit of heaven I see: a room clogged with dancing royalty, crowns throbbing, faces glittered with joy. It’s like throwing open a chest full of God’s glory and looking inside: Confetti spins, pouring from the ceiling, from cannons beside the stage, where the word “SHINE” […]
218
Feb 9, 2018
“—Hey, are you listening to me?” I pause mid-sentence, asking because I know what it is for him to listen. I know the impossibility he faces, without the ability to deafen distractions. And I’m telling him what will be, things he’ll want to have heard, mental notes he’ll want to keep. “Yes,” he says softly, […]
219
Feb 2, 2018
“So tell me everything you would like to do this afternoon,” I say, pulling a capless pen from the chipped bisque mug on the desk, sliding a notepad in front of me. Pansies float around the edge of the paper. The impressions of Adam’s carb counts from breakfast dent the blank top page, making a […]
220
Jan 19, 2018
At first, Riley can’t see. Bright Sunday morning, and we’re just inside the building where the church meets saying hello, a bunch of mismatched, layered-up family wearing reunion smiles, and I see her bending over her clipboard, too low, too close, one eye flat closed like a patch and the other just barely a slit. […]