1Aug 27, 2021
“So for some reason, this verse made me think of you,” my friend says, flicking her finger back and forth on the edge of an index card as we settle onto her porch beneath warm party lights glowing in the cloudy afternoon and ferns gently swaying. I cradle the coffee cup in my hands and […]
2Aug 20, 2021
My friend gives me the cross as a gift, just lays it in my palm, and it isn’t until that filling, the cool, solid weight of olive wood resting against my skin, that I realize how empty-handed I’ve been. “I found these online,” she says, giving one to another friend too, because together, we make […]
3Dec 11, 2020
The kitchen smells savory-rich, of comfort and warmth and vacation, of salty, sizzling bacon, slowly melting butter, and just lightly, of syrup. This morning, we cook up breakfast sandwiches assembly-line style, sipping coffee and talking, our voices rising and falling among the clatter of plates and pans. Here and there, a chuckle, a yawn, a […]
4Dec 28, 2018
Christmas Steve began years ago, merely a quip in response to Riley’s running Advent countdown. “Just 8 more days until Christmas,” she will say, standing at attention beside the white board, holding her dry erase marker like a wand, shaking it in the air for emphasis. Riley considers calendar-keeping critical to her sanity, and at […]
5Apr 20, 2018
Mid-morning and they wander out to me, rested and fresh from sleep, blanket lines on their high-boned cheeks. Riley’s brassy hair swings out from her shoulders, lifted by the breeze, as she settles into the chair across from me, carrying her breakfast. “Happy birthday, Mom Jones,” she says, while Zoe gently drops a present on […]
6Dec 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 […]
7Dec 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 […]
8Jul 7, 2017
I step down the ladder and balance my paintbrush on the edge of the can, reaching down to trace the paint-tattoo on my knee with one finger. This now dry glob—when did that happen?–looks like a Maui Mist cloud, all wispy at the edges. I clench and unclench my hands, sore, noticing the red welts rising like blistering […]
9Jun 9, 2017
They sit waiting–my children and this party of their best friends, a huddled, cross-legged, patchwork group in costumes as vibrant and varied as they. Even with the house lights dim, I see the startling glint of silver sequins, a neon vest, leotards and athletic jerseys. I slip into a chair and just smile, holding my […]
10Apr 28, 2017
I slide the last pin in place, just at the bottom of the glossy braid. This one reminds me of a seashell, woven wide and spiraling low, bright at the top where the sun has turned her hair a tawny gold, like wheat. She smiles and the light moves right into her face. “Thanks, Mom […]