Dear Lila, Yesterday, you curled on the couch and covered your head with pillows while the rest of us began school. I did not yell. Yesterday, your ears turned deaf when I gently asked you to come to the table. Your weight shifted on the… Read More
Dear Lila: When I die, I want to be holding my two special quarters and be buried with them. And Fluffy Unicorn. And your hands. You said this to me today. It was mid-bath, while I rigorously scrubbed frothy peppermint shampoo in your head. Shampoo… Read More
I remember wooden church pews, wrapping my arm around my mother’s arm and watching her hands as they rested on her lap or turned through the delicate pages of her Bible. I remember holding mine up beside hers and studying the two: large and small,… Read More
Lila had her kindergarten screening. I don’t like the wording, don’t like to consider my daughter something to be “screened” and placed as part of a track, especially one based on how well she can parrot back her ABC’s or if she draws all ten… Read More
