Tag Archives: Childhood

Mourning August

Mourning August

Today they danced naked in the rain. As they did back in June when the summer began, the rain trickled down their baby bangs, their popsicle chins. Collecting together in a brown  slime between their toes. They put off dinner to dance. To each claim three muddied towels before it was all over, believing each… Read more

Her fog

Her fog

She’s translucent again, as it steals her away, tearing down the resilience we had toiled to build. And I am consumed by trying to shoo her worries away, if only I could. Instead, it feels as soon as I patch one area of her heart another seam opens. I never thought I would need to… Read more

My Christmas wish

My Christmas wish

Of course my children all got poop in their eyes. One is three years old, and really, the story could stop there. Instead, I’ll fill you in on all of the shitty details of my weeks past. “Just wash all of your hands more,” the doctor says last week, as she and I wiped the… Read more

Realizations

Realizations

We braid now. We are finding the time. Like my mom braided for me on Friday nights when she’d race home from the city after five days apart. Like she’d do for me Sunday mornings before church, even if we were running late. I hated the braids, actually. Hated the hurt of it all. I… Read more

Wild One

Wild One

Even your eyes are wilder. Dark green at the edges, golden green near the inner core. Yours are larger than your sister or brother’s blues. More excitable, more curious. You and yours are more eager. Your eyes don’t speak worry. All your eyes concern themselves with is finding the source to achieve your daily chocolate… Read more

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