On the Fridays when Josh spends the day with us, Riley, Josh, and I have conversations about what they’ll do for each other in-case-of-seizure.  They sit at the bar, our couple, their fingers interlaced, while I stand in front of them at the kitchen sink, my hands preoccupied with washing. “Now Josh,” I begin.  He […]

All the way to school, Riley reads me her birthday messages, one after another, turning down the music as she clears her throat. All of this affectionate acknowledgement adds up as evidence to one solid truth that right now glows on Riley’s cheeks: I am loved. It’s the one thing we all need to know–I.am.loved, […]

I joke and call myself a hoop jumper, me with my hair flying wild around my face and my exercise clothes still on from before carpool; me with a pen in one hand, and a mess of papers stretched across the desk in indistinguishable stacks, some paper-clipped, some loose and, as Kevin would say, “flapping […]

Riley sits at the bar, fresh-faced and bright, if still a little rumpled with sleep. She looks like Spring, like the first day of sapphire skies; like new flowers with blushing, velvet leaves; like anticipation; like hope sitting right there on a bench in my kitchen., and it’s striking to me because it’s the opposite […]

I don’t know her name–not the sound of her voice, not even the shape of her smile. As it is these days, because of the mask she wears, her eyes—dark and determined and locked on mine–are all I know of her, those eyes and that hair, curling dark around her head in short, wild corkscrews. […]

“I met a new friend today,” Riley says, and it’s the first thing she wants to tell me about her first day back at school, the first thing she gushes, beaming as she walks through the door and out of the thick August afternoon heat. “Oh yea?” “Mmmhmm,” she singsongs, dropping her book bag into […]

I walk through the front room and find Riley and Josh hanging out on Zoom. I see Josh in profile on the screen, sitting sideways as though he’s right beside her; I can’t tell if he’s watching TV or playing a game on his phone. Riley bends over the table, riffling her fingers through a […]

I stand behind, holding Riley’s hair in my hands, twisting the damp lengths into Dutch braids while she thumbs through notifications on her phone. With practiced fingers I smooth the hair, which is honey brown when wet and, in places, darker with shadows. I weave, my hands trapped in the loom, and slowly an elegant […]

At the dawn of day, while yet the dark of dying night redacts our view, I huddle in the chair by a flickering fire, coffee cup warm on my fingers. The one hand cradling, the other cupped to receive, my heart turns to prayer. I worship; I confess; I give thanks; I ask, withholding nothing. […]

I admit it:  I don’t want to go. Here I sit at my computer, working, checking things off of my list.  More, I strike them through with satisfaction.  Those lines, they could be the slashed out edges of me, the angles of my shoulders, the sharp bones of my cheeks.  Sometimes I mark my identity […]