The bones in her hands healed. We went to the hospital and the doctor removed the splints. He examined her hands and did tests, took x-rays. It was miraculous, he said. Her hands were in perfect shape.
I spend my time imagining my husband's breathing: the symphony of energy expended by his body and bones and the universal sound of the heart pumping blood, the heart doing what the heart actually does.
Dad’s home! one of them would shout, and the others would squeal in nervous panic. Plucked from their fantasies, the three of them melded into one entity: the kids.
They reassured you, told you that you were overreacting. You laughed a normal laugh and agreed, but later, after your boyfriend had gone to bed, the laugh froze in your throat, choking you.
She has time to think all of this just after the moment she notes the first red tipped leaves and just before she realizes that her brakes are just not catching, catching, catching.
On the weekend we’re at a family barbeque at the local park—I’m surrounded by at least thirty family members. And motor Mama reminds me, as she serves me one of her giant barbeque
By noon we are wasted and the music thumps and Maureen's cake is gutted in the center of my dining room table. I am tempted to tell my neighbors to go home
He handed her the medicine and they sat down. After she lit one she handed it to him. She only ever let him take a couple puffs because she was afraid his mother would stop bringing
"Nothing would be the same," I lamented. "You have certain periods in your life that are very good, and you should have been happier, but by the time you realize that, they're gone"
“One hundred and twelve degrees! It’s just unbelievable out there!” she said.
