Watching from the bench. . .g
The pier is packed. Spectators six deep watch the finals of the Vans US Open of Surfing below. I wedge myself into the crowd trying to…
Home . . .
I slide the window shade up a few inches, careful not to let too much light into the airplane. We are pretending it’s nighttime as we…
Hope comes home . . .
I lay awake, heart racing. Resting my hand upon my chest, I struggle to take a deep breath and remind myself to stay calm. I sit…
A mother’s hope . . .
There is a boy I love. I dreamed of him and what he would be before I ever met him, blonde and blue-eyed, smart and funny,…
