181May 13, 2016
She comes to find me on the porch, settling lightly on the double rocker next to me, shimmying her body close to mine. Â The warm wind picks up a stray piece of her hair and plasters it across her forehead. Â She leans against the pillows, considering me briefly, reaching up to tuck that wild strand […]
182Apr 1, 2016
Adam finds me sometimes, just to talk about the things that excite him. I’m one of the few with whom he’ll take that still awkward step, because he can appreciate the way that I know him, the way womb-forged bonds overcome every other kind of separation.  I almost always know what Adam means to say before he says […]
183Mar 18, 2016
“Hey now, offer him grace, okay?” She sits in front of me, tears pooling in the pit of the day, and I wash onions off of my hands with soap meant to smell like a sunrise sail.  It won’t be enough.  I know that, but I try anyway.  Hours from now, my fingers will still smell […]
184Feb 19, 2016
“One. Two. Three. Four,” She says, shuffling the cards in chunky sections that fall too quickly away from her fingers.  The cards thunk and smack against the table.  Riley has developed a ritual even for preparing the game.  She shuffles the cards six times before she deals, grinning at us as we amble to our chairs, dragging […]
185Jan 29, 2016
Mom, what will you write about today? Â Â Her question is a gift; a jewel in my palm. She sits at the bar looking very nearly sixteen–golden head bent over her phone and all those little flyaways catching the early light; a cup of coffee just south of her hand, steaming; a dozen bracelets sliding […]
186Nov 27, 2015
Thanksgiving leaves scatter across our table, as though the Wind has carried them in a flying whirl through the windows, twisting them across the grass and through the air to land where we gather to give thanks.  Adam walks to the table, turning first to reach for a pencil.  I feel what he is about to […]
187Nov 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 […]
188Oct 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 […]
189Sep 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 […]
190Sep 4, 2015
It only takes a moment for things to crumble. At day’s end, twilight throws last rosy beams across the kitchen table, lighting up flecks of glitter melted into the clear coat years ago during some school project, making Riley’s golden flyaways shine like a gossamer crown faintly visible on her forehead. Â She has just finished […]