1Jan 12, 2024
We walk the winter road like Job’s friends, the three of us–Riley, Josh, and me, coming from a distance, the wind whipping at the hem of my black lace dress, the edge of Josh’s dark coat, the smooth ends of Riley’s brassy bob. Riley’s eye shadow looks, I notice just this moment, like smudges of […]
2Dec 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 […]
3Mar 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 […]
4Feb 23, 2018
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 […]
5Mar 17, 2017
Finally together at the end of the day, and the murmur of quiet activity is grace. Riley sits with her feet tucked under her at the bar, giggling over a word that twisted in her mouth when she said it, all those wispy, mussed hairs falling golden around her cheeks. Zoe saunters in on sock […]
6Feb 17, 2017
In the waiting room, she reaches for my hand, lacing her long fingers through my own. She presses her palm flat against my palm until all the lines meet, intersecting for a stretch and then contradicting, all posts and crossbeams. Her moon eyes speak paragraphs over still lips, tightly drawn. They are imploring blue–those eyes, […]
7Feb 5, 2016
I can miss so many things. Confession: I have an alarm that goes off like the first faint notes of a sonata half an hour before they get home, before the first one opens the door and drops her book bag right there, her pony tail all wilted. I have to. It’s long enough for […]
8Mar 6, 2015
Zoe grabs my hand before I turn. “Wait.” We stand on the threshold looking out at the world. Clouds wrap thick, dove-gray over the warmth of the sky, until all sight takes on a stormy cast. Winter lingers, and I want to reach out and touch the knobby buds on the branches of the tree in […]