11May 3, 2019
Storm’s coming. Days before, while the sun still beams in the wide, blue sky, while the birds still twitter and Kevin and I stand on the front porch sighing over the breeze, we friends begin to prepare. My phone buzzes like a bumble bee, and with it my watch, screen shots and shared weather reports, […]
12Mar 1, 2019
In the late afternoon, we sit and sip coffee from steaming cups, two friends with a wealth of life between us and crinkles at the corners of our eyes. We toss aside our phones, with all their connection that disconnects, and wrap our fingers around warm mugs. I brewed the coffee and she showed up […]
13Jun 15, 2018
My friend and I walk until our tender feet tell us to turn around, after stretches and stretches of water-textured and glittering sand. The shore begins to rub away our blunt edges, until we become warm and worn and honest. My friend lifts her finger, silently stirring the air so as not to stop the […]
14Dec 22, 2017
“What’s this?” she says, leaning into the doorway, that smile wide. She wears blue eyeshadow, like tiny snatches of bright sky calling her eyes up. I explain that Riley and I are the proprietresses of the stocking stuffer room. “Mmmhmm,” Riley chirps agreeably and the ball on her Santa hat bobs, while I guesture toward […]
15Dec 8, 2017
“This isn’t a gift,” she says, passing the gift bag across the table. The bag is cool teal, like one of the stripes in her shirt. Except for the clear absence of tissue paper, it certainly looks like a gift. The twisted paper handles slide down her fingers as she extends her hand. “No, I […]
16Nov 11, 2016
From the basket, another sock. Â I smooth it a little with my fingers, examining the fabric for those holes in the heel, in the places that bear the brunt of our steps. Â I have my own gaping holes, I’m thinking, right in carefully hidden spaces, in brutally crushed places, smashed against the road. Â This sock–bleach […]
17Jul 22, 2016
When Loggerhead turtles hatch, they are the same color as the sand.  We have to lean down to see, after a  friendly woman—a stranger wearing a pink baseball cap and salt-smeared eyeglasses—beckons to us, backlit by the sunrise.  Initially blind, we wonder what she could possibly have to show us in the middle of that broad stretch […]
18Nov 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 […]
19Oct 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 […]
20Oct 2, 2015
I hear the door open, and with that sound comes the volume of her sadness, the distinct sound of brokenness.  Tears always steal her breath the way they still steal mine, and before I can see her I hear that awful gasp, the way she hungrily stuggles for air.  She cries with her whole body.  The […]