1Mar 11, 2022
“There you are, Mom,” Riley says, even though I have been walking beside her the last half hour, even though she has never lost sight of me. She says this with joy and without rebuke, as though I am the prodigal, momentarily disappeared and just returned, as though she’s been watching for me. She continues […]
2Jun 7, 2019
“Building relationships seems so hard here,” my friend says, offering me a small smile as we walk down the glinting road, our foreheads glistening with early summer sweat. Sunglasses, the lenses gold and amber like a sunrise sky, cover up her eyes. “That’s because we’re all so busy,” I say, and she laughs, an easy […]
3Oct 5, 2018
Saturday morning, Adam walks downstairs wearing his football jersey, which is blue like the crisp Fall sky, blue like his eyes. I say walk, but his steps have a certain bounce that matches his wide smile. Maybe autism steals away my son’s words, but Adam’s body has always found its own ways to convey what […]
4Jul 14, 2017
We are growing stronger here, together. I say this to her as we walk along the beach, leaving impressions of our feet in the sand. With every purposeful step, the soft shore sinks. The salty sea rolls over our footprints, filling the heels, the toes, making briny tidepools and minuscule islands—our own desolate Lilliput, soon […]
5Sep 25, 2015
Hello there! Good morning to you, he calls. He has a brightness I can feel before I see him, even though I realize as I look up that his gear—suit, helmet, even the bike—is all black, like the deepest part of the night. I’m suddenly aware that I’ve been staring at the pavement, while he […]