51Jun 28, 2019
Sometimes, I worry my prayers. I squint hard, stumbling over what to say. “I have no words,” I mutter. I take notes, not wanting to forget what I meant to mention. I worry about the public articulation of my need, how I’ll sound. I forget who hears me. Maybe, I misunderstand what He knows already. […]
52May 24, 2019
Impatiently, I refresh the screen, tapping my foot, jiggling the mouse with my hand. Come on, come on, come on. A few days ago, I sent Riley’s doctor a message on the patient portal, a few questions about upcoming labs and potential patterns. Sometimes parenting a child with epilepsy, especially while adjusting meds, feels like […]
53Apr 5, 2019
“I’m gonna cry,” Riley says, just as her voice begins to break. A bewildered sigh escapes, and she absently touches her own cheek, as though to catch tears that haven’t yet dripped. She has just begun to tell our small group what happened to her, about the seizure that took her from school to the […]
54Oct 19, 2018
I hear her through the wall, the rhythmic way she flicks the light switch on off on off on off. “Okay. Okie dokie,” I hear her say. “Okay. Okie dokie. Okay, and yes, I the lights are off.” I hear the thwoosh of a tissue jerked from the tissue box so purposefully that the decorative acrylic cover […]
55Sep 7, 2018
Caught up in the morning whoosh, I rush to the car, balancing my bag, my water, my phone. I call out the usual things, looking forward but tossing the words behind me, a list of rapid-fire questions each beginning with “Do you have your….” Adam walks out close behind me, lightly slinging his backpack over […]
56Aug 24, 2018
The sky, like the soft skin of a plum, ripens from the bottom, hinting at some sweet, fleshy truth beyond its careful covering. I rock back and forth in a rocker on the porch, relishing the chance to savor the change, wondering how it would be to peel back that top layer of rich cloud. […]
57May 25, 2018
Knife taps against cutting board and the onion cries. The delicate scarlet rings fall, hiding the slicing scars, all those crisscrossed lines like a haphazard tally of breaths. If only the flavors–peppery and sun-soaked and honey-sweet–lasted as long as the evidence of our cooking. A sigh slips as I turn my burning eyes away from the […]
58Apr 6, 2018
In that house on the hill, someone shouts so loud the windows rattle, brittle and tinkling, like chains. In horror films, that sound–always the glass clattering like shivering teeth–makes me want to hide my face. My steps slow as I pass by, a rumbling street and a sidewalk between. “I told YOU,” I hear a […]
59Mar 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. […]
60Feb 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 […]