Columns

For this week’s column, I’m going with something more lighthearted: existential dread. I’m kidding. My last couple of columns have been a little dreary in nature. Sometimes that’s what life throws at you. How about we talk about fall and Halloween? Because I’ve been…

The auditorium filled up quickly for a Monday night. Everyone was bursting with excitement. I sat in the back with my friend Jacob and posted on Facebook that I was about to freak out like a teenage fangirl at a Jonas Brothers concert. Yes, ladies, I’m…

In January 2011, I had a period of illness that sparked an emergency tracheostomy surgery. It also marked the time that home nursing care was unexpectedly thrust into my family’s lives. In the years since then, my nurses have become an important part of our household.

It has been a bizarre week in the Silva household. Come to think of it, “stressful” may be a better adjective to describe the energy inside our four walls. However, for the sake of accurately portraying the out-of-the-ordinary vibe that’s been circulating among my family members, let’s go with “bizarrely…

The school was bustling as children and adults exchanged greetings while rushing about. Parent-teacher conferences were underway. I arrived at the school with Ella and Henry, 30 minutes early for the first of two meetings. While we waited, we spent time at the book fair…

As it turns out, I wasn’t able to edit my novel in August as I planned. Hospital visits, fatigue, and vacation got the best of me. It looks like it’s going to take more than a month to edit an entire book, so…

Fun fact: I’m a huge sucker for the coming-of-age genre. I voraciously consume memoirs like “If at Birth You Don’t Succeed“ and religiously quote shows like “Boy Meets World.” I once wrote a paper…

A few weeks ago, my mom and I went to Junk Bonanza, a vintage market that’s held twice a year at the local horse racing track. I feel twice my age while I’m there, but it’s a chance for Mom and…

“Houston, we’re not in kindergarten anymore,” I said as we looked at our reflections in the mirror. My hair was carefully pinned back just right. My makeup was meticulously applied, and a Burgundy gown gently draped over the footplates of my wheelchair. To my right was my best friend, Amanda,…

I’m a flop at remembering details and dates. However, 1997 is the exception. On July 7, 1997, our dog Duffy was killed by a car, sparking a conversation with my son Jeffrey’s older siblings about death, heaven, and God’s role. One week later, on July…