We carry him in, our day old son. We hug him close, pushing back the receiving blanket to expose his little heel. It’s just a heel stick, the nurse says. She jabs it in. He lets out an infant cry, a squeal. I feel the jab in my heel, my heart. I’m not sure where. […]
“Mom, I never want to leave you,” he said. He was four years old. “Aren’t you going to work?” “I’ll only work on Tuesdays so I can be with you all the time.” He’s driving away in a car full of Marines. Her Marine. Her son. She calls out after him, “Don’t forget your jacket. […]
Pete calls in the afternoon, interrupting me in the middle of an important project. I’m always in the middle of a project. “‘Looks like a great day for a motorcycle ride,” he says cheerily. He says this almost every day, but on a weekday I usually get more time to work we usually go out after […]
Only one person can be in the driver’s seat. In my marriage, more often than not, Pete’s in the driver’s seat. We discuss where we want to go, how much time we want to ride, but ultimately, it’s his call. It’s his hand on the throttle and his foot on the brake. If he runs […]
I had thought I could always go home. But suddenly I realized I didn’t know how. My trail of crumbs had long been eaten. I had lost my way.