Riley can’t respond to me when she’s seizing. She can’t answer my gentle pleas for her to come back, though she tries to turn her head toward me and gets locked there, looking back over her left shoulder, eyes seeing nowhere and then straining beyond even me. I glance at the clock, marking the time, […]

“I’m scared,” Riley says, tears brimming in her tired eyes. I can see angry capillaries traveling like tributaries from the corners; the ocean of her grief swallows them. I want to sweep her tears away; I want to take her hand and run away from this day, this place. “To get your blood drawn?” I […]

Rushing out of one appointment and late to another, I discover the text: Riley had a seizure. And in one second flat, I feel as though some vile bully just ran by and pushed me off my careful balance, and that even with my angry, road-scratched palms, I am somehow responsible for the world.  Alone.  […]

Saturday night, and the descent happens just this quickly: We sit around the table licking frosting from our fingers, when she finally lifts her cupcake in one flattened palm, admiring the shape of it from all sides.  She has her own way—her own “technique,” she says—for savoring food.  When it comes to cupcakes, she tastes […]

Twilight comes, and she’s a bright star, throwing light so stunning I can hardly look away. There’s a Hebrew word for praise, a primitive root, that also means to flash forth light, and since we arrived in the ampitheater and the music floated out and up, she has shone, spreading her fingers wide, offering up […]

In the worst moments, our Riley drifts away from us. She wanders somewhere deep and lonely, somewhere we can’t follow.   It happens gradually, the going, the pulling away—a lost look in her eyes, the slow way she moves, the quiet we can feel.  We reach for her, calling her name, and she murmurs, trying […]