1Feb 16, 2024
Adam shows up at the brunch table on Saturday morning wearing his glasses, a little smudged, because he’s still learning to clean them, and I treasure it up, because he has chosen to wear them on his day of rest. Here I am too, drawing my chair–blue, like a summer sky—up to our table, also […]
2Dec 1, 2023
Our new ophthalmologist wears red socks, that’s the first thing I notice as he leans into an apparatus that makes him look like a mechanical bug, or maybe an owl, with eyes made of magnifying glass and metallic feathers outlining the sockets, with grommets like tiny decoys scattered about his face. It can feel like […]
3Sep 3, 2021
When we discover that Adam needs glasses, even his eye doctor has his doubts. “If he’ll wear them…” The doctor says, drawing out the ellipsis as he slowly extends the prescription in my direction. Oh, he’ll wear them, I’m thinking, watching the doctor’s back as he walks away, but it’ll take work. I snap a […]
4Jan 15, 2021
Frosty morning, and I sit by the fire still sleepy, wrapped cozy and soft, protectively sheltered like some valuable thing. I want to call this a deception, the layered swaddling of cushioning warmth–not just the clothing, the blanket, the velvety socks on my feet but the tissue, the skin, as though admitting my soul deep […]