Category Archives: Daughters
Birthday Girl
It is commonly thought, when our children are peeking into adulthood, that perhaps we didn’t enjoy them as much as we should have. Perhaps if we knew then what we know now–that time passes quickly–we would have treasured more dearly … Continue reading
No Fear
It’s the sound no mother wants to hear. I was standing at the kitchen window, caught in the doing of the dishes, turning David’s poetry over in my mind. It was a typical noontime on a (finally!) perfect summer day. … Continue reading
Fifteen
It figures that she’d come in March. March, when the earth is mud and the air still smarts and we all want spring. I guess our Father knew we needed something to celebrate. This one, who is everyone’s friend, who … Continue reading
Haikus for Spring
Spring comes, and with it these silken globes of wishes, these feathers and seeds . . . which are carried high, floating in an April sky on wings of her dreams.
On paint and promises
I promised we’d paint her room. We went to the hardware store: so many choices. So many color names. I thought “soft and subtle” would be lovely. She wanted bold and beautiful. Is this what it is–to honor my teenager? … Continue reading
A Monday Afternoon
He said that we could come anytime . . . that his was a “community rink.” We arrived and two high-schoolers were there, shooting pucks at a net. Anna was undeterred–“I can use the other side of the rink. They … Continue reading
And so it goes
She came to us in December, this one who was a perfect surprise. It was a day of cold rain, I remember. And we just didn’t know–how would she be? Months of prenatal testing had yielded no answers, just more … Continue reading
Glorious
There is a quiet corner of morning when it’s just me and my newest teenager–the two of us in the kitchen. Hers is the first bus, so she is up early. She is making her lunch, trying to conjure up … Continue reading
Weekend Wonder — {A Day at the Fair}
For a while she was connected, though she drew umbilical life through a compromised cord. I remember how I sat in a chair, week after week, hooked up to wires. I learned to watch the screen, tracing the little river … Continue reading