11Mar 26, 2021
As soon as Kevin leaves the room, Riley slips through the open door and flops on the sofa beside me, hairbrush in one hand, all that hair still dark wet and snarled, swinging against her back and scattering droplets. Immediately I notice her red-rimmed eyes, but choose not to say anything at first, carefully sliding […]
12Jul 10, 2020
In the morning, we friends gather on Zoom, collecting on a screen the way we once surrounded coffee shop tables, dropping handbags on the floor, dragging over extra chairs, only now new windows open into presence in front of us like blinking eyes, and here I sit at home with my wet-from-the-shower hair, and we […]
13May 1, 2020
One way or another, the virus infects us all. In conversation, we make lists without realizing it: lists of things we can’t do, how this quarantine limits, what it takes away, our disagreements with decision-makers. In place of the usual discourse about our venturing lives, in place of thanks-giving or our witness to excellent and […]
14Mar 20, 2020
After dinner, we settle our forks on plates smeared delicious, and I give thanks. Around one sentence gather so many gifts: dinner, delicious, we. Adam stands, reaches for Kevin’s plate, then mine, stacking them with careful clatter beneath his own. His eyes flick past Riley, who still needs to finish a few bites, to Zoe, […]
15Oct 25, 2019
In the window, the orchid’s petals drop, crisp and thin, like elegant parchment cut-outs piling in drifts on the sill. Their rose hue has faded to ivory; they age like paper, but far more quickly. I cup my hand, sweeping in the soft, dead things, murmuring about the loss of another fragile life. “I wonder […]
16Aug 2, 2019
I slide my thumbs over the curves of an apple, holding it under the tap. Water splashes over Granny Smith green, green like early leaves with sun shining through. Before slicing in, before bruising the fruity flesh, I wash. The water chills my thumbs, my palms. Zoe leans on the bar, suddenly open, telling me […]
17Nov 2, 2018
From my office, I heard their voices, the soft, deep rumble of Father training son. “Do you still need Lantus?” Kevin asked Adam, who grunted over the forced pause. What is it about us that we resent the time it takes to grow? Lantus is to long-release insulin what Kleenex is to tissue, merely a […]
18Jan 26, 2018
In the morning, he puts a cup in my hands, french-pressed and steaming, the flavor deep, and I sip, letting the new day develop. My chilled fingers begin to warm to the living ahead of me, living that surely overflows the banks and spills, splashing. I crack the blinds and watch light overtake darkness, slowly, […]
19Jan 12, 2018
Adam sloshes the rag around the sink, holding a corner with two fingers, dragging the cloth by the neck like some vile, unwanted thing. He tried to convince me we did not have to do this. “Already clean the bathroom,” he said, and on the floor, I could see an antibacterial wipe that missed the […]
20Nov 17, 2017
Ready to leave, and I touch his arm, just two of my fingers, gentle, against the bony jut of his elbow. “Don’t you want a jacket?” I ask instead of tell, because this is not a life-threatening situation, and because choices facilitate growth; the understanding that someone else can have a broader perspective, that Love […]