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 […]

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.  […]

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 […]

“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 […]

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.  […]

In the kitchen, I scoop up the end of the day in my palm–the covered, sharp tip of an insulin needle we used for Adam; an alcohol swab, still evaporating that clean, astringent smell; paper-torn wrappers.  With the other hand, I lift an abandoned cup of water–probably the one Riley set down when she finished […]

It’s an old, familiar, childhood question.  If you had just one wish, and you knew it would come true… It’s a genie question, hovering in smoke, the answer thought-whispered over snuffed out candles, wispy and curling.  Just once, it was a question of Biblical proportions, only God posed it differently, to a young king:  Ask […]

To look at her, you’d not think her mighty, carrying that slice of notebook paper folded over her fingers, brassy hair tied in two smooth knots and pinned, finally, against her head and away from her face.  She insists upon nothing in her eyes when she’s about her business, checking off important things in a […]

Home and kids settled, I run upstairs and slip on my walking shoes, tugging at the laces.  Sometimes the only thing I know is that I need God.  I slip my keys and my phone in my pocket and promise to be back soon, and I move, carrying water, heavy in one hand.  I’m thirsty, […]

He places the card in my hand, lightly fingering the rough fold, the paper blue like a storm in the middle of the afternoon or the ocean in places very deep.  I look at the flat, incongruent edges and see fibers; wet, bruised pulp; dye on someone’s fingers.  It’s remarkable to see the beginnings of […]