My vision bloomed as I blinked my contacts into their daily parking spaces atop my corneas. I looked around, gathering my wits. Then, I noticed it. It hung over my tea kettle, gleaming in the haze of…
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I’m a groundhog. Well, symbolically, I’m a groundhog. I emerged from my burrow on Groundhog Day, 1986. I’m reminded of this each year my birthday rolls around, when my mom recollects her story about being…
When I say, “I don’t need my SMA to be fixed,” I mean it from the bottom of my heart. Last month, I set sail with my first dose of the new disease-modifying therapy Evrysdi…
It cried out in the dead of night. The wild call erupted like the sensual panic of a volcano beneath placid moonlight. My partner, Andy, was helping me get situated in bed for the night when the…
When each human is born, a map of ethereal territories is drawn up in a distinct way. For every passing minute and hour within a calendar date, an interior designer of celestial proportions is commissioned to…
I don’t prefer the phrase “disabled person.” It isn’t a go-to accessory item regularly pulled from my colorful closet of self-descriptors. Before we go any further, let me assure you: If you describe yourself in this way,…
They congregated on a beach in the mild November air. More than 50 of them stood there, wondering if they dare dip their feet into the water or remain lounging on soft sand. Not a mask in…
Today is thought to be my sweet beagle’s 11th birthday. Even if it’s not her actual birthday, it’s still her unbirthday — and to any fan of imaginative literature, an unbirthday is a worthy touchstone of celebration…
I’ve been grieving this month. On some days, the weather was impeccable. Morning dew twinkled on silk linens of freshly spun spiderwebs. The air smelled of sun-crisped leaves dipped in salted caramel. Other days were filmed in grayscale. Winds…
Come, sit beside me at my campfire. How about some apple cider or hot cocoa on this crisp autumn night? It’ll warm your bones. Help yourself to a s’more. I haven’t yet figured out a pumpkin spice recipe,…
On my writing desk sits a narwhal. Not an actual narwhal from arctic waters. That would be absurd. It’s a stout piece of pottery I painted alongside my niece last winter. We sat together at a…
It’s late August. The songs written by crickets in May have been arranged into full summer soundtracks, playing on loops of background music from dawn to dusk and moonrise to moonset. The aroma of sun-baked leaves swirls about…
As we drove into the parking lot adjacent to a tried and true trailhead, the hollow moon had climbed into the bluest corner of the sky. Drifting thunderheads were perched atop the distant tree line like pensive giants. …
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