What the Children Are Saying

With a weathered spoon, I am chasing bubbles in boiling oatmeal when my three-year-old stampedes down the wooden stairs, shouting out with the tree in his sights. “Shh!” I shake my head, “Your sister’s still sleeping.” It’s a ruckus when he’s in the room. The...

Just Two Eyes to See

I pivot the tiny screen on its hinges and almost slam it away in the ceiling of the minivan. “Don’t even ask,” I tell them, “we’re keeping our eyes on the real world today.” I’m lecturing by now, a woman with a diatribe, “There’s so much beauty around us….” A...