91Jan 15, 2016
Some days just feel bruised—suddenly all purple-black and sore, tender. Putting the towels away, the still-warm stacks soft in my hands, I lean into the linen closet and allow the tears I’ve been swallowing to come, quietly.  At the moment, I am sick with seems and nevers, near-drowning in shadows and struggling hard just to breathe.  I can […]
92Jan 1, 2016
Days after Christmas, and their wishlists still hang on the refrigerator, curling slightly at the corners where our nearness, our brushing past, has gently reshaped the paper.  And of course, the lists have been moved a few times–carefully detached to travel with me to the store, lifted once or twice for closer reading, softly touched with an […]
93Nov 13, 2015
She walks in just as I slide my weary bones down into the water, just as the steam curls up over my knees and I give thanks for simple pleasures I know full well that some do without—hot, clean water flowing by the gallons at the twist of a knob; sweet-smelling soap. Hi, she says […]
94Nov 6, 2015
She apologizes to Kevin like we autism mamas do, ignoring the sharp, slicing pain it brings just to say the words. I’m sorry, my daughter–she has autism. Â She doesn’t mean nothing by it. Â She says this gesturing over something Kevin barely noticed, a failure to say hello, a back turned, a little stumble over […]
95Oct 23, 2015
In the crisp of morning, we wait for school, snatching glimpses toward the door.  Adam reaches for me, flicking my ear with his fingers, saying I love you in a way all his own.  He tilts his head away, his expression lost, crinkled and preoccupied.  I wonder if he contemplates the angle of the new light beaming […]
96Oct 16, 2015
The hour turns, and my friend waves me over, patting the chair beside. All evening, we have all only wanted to surround her, this iron-strong friend strong enough yet to admit that she needs us to lift her.  It takes a brave woman to allow the veil to fall—whisper-light—from her face, to sit uncovered and honest, to […]
97Oct 9, 2015
So many times this week I’ve whispered the words—running under stunning blue skies; exhaling beside grassy spaces where dewey spider webs glow like hundreds of silver threaded veils seemingly abandoned by impetuos ethereal brides; in the dying light of the afternoon, when the work still stretches, teasing at the edges of impossible. Â I say it […]
98Sep 25, 2015
Hello there! Good morning to you, he calls. Â He has a brightness I can feel before I see him, even though I realize as I look up that his gear—suit, helmet, even the bike—is all black, like the deepest part of the night. I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been staring at the pavement, while he […]
99Aug 28, 2015
Most days, the last thing I hear before I lay down the day all empty and relax my weakened grip and let my heart rate slow is the sound of his heartbeat. It’s the sound that’s found by letting go. We sleep close; we always have. Â And most days, I fit my cheek into a […]
100Aug 14, 2015
Thank you, Lord, that we have plenty of food to eat. It’s a simple thing he says holding my hand, breathing deeply before God, just as I sit down with a sigh, just as I’ve gotten it all wrong and lost my grateful perspective. Five minutes and it’s time to take Zoe to school. Â It […]