Creative Nonfiction

Finding the bedtime routine cocktail is a parent’s mixology masterclass.

Warm bowls of pepper soup appeared before hunger could even form into words. “Eat small small,” she said. I ate because she was there.

My breath caught to hear her voice again, no longer thin and slurred, but strong and brisk, healthy and young.

All I want to do is keep him safe. 

I couldn’t shake the sense that something was happening to him… I kept asking for more testing, more opinions, more time with people willing to look closer.

In their hungry hunt for anything that sparkles, they lead me into the wilderness where I watch them climb trees, catch bugs, love the dirt they stand on.

Wearing your nylon training suit to swim one mile of laps in the chlorinated city pool. Complaining to the lifeguards, after your first swim of the season in late May,…

The sun draws beads of sweat from my upper lip. I trudge through the uneven sand, arms loaded down with chairs, bags, a cooler, and several towels. I squint in…

The urge to sleep tickles my brain as I lie in the semi-darkness of David’s room, fully dressed, atop his yellow bedspread. As usual, my nine-year-old is on the parquet…

It’s five-thirty in the morning when I slide out of bed as my husband sleeps. Quietly, I shuffle down the hall, careful not to bump the oak sideboard that hides…

My husband and his three children pile in the back door, shaking off wet coats and cheerfully bickering about what pizza toppings we’ll have and which movie we’re going to…