Writings

Stories about my son are like biting into an August peach. They have the most juice. But this juice isn’t sweet. It tastes like simmering Thanksgiving cranberries before the sugar’s been added...

A depressive state visited me last night. It lingered in the background during sleep, making itself known as I tossed and turned...

I seem to swim in the world of the unknown, facing constant challenges and uncertainties, not knowing where to find solid ground...

I felt the glow of divinity this morning as I scrubbed my son’s ankles and toes...

For a long time I wanted to get away and live in an ashram. I imagined a quiet reprieve from the stresses of David’s care...

David spends much of the day sitting on the couch, legs crossed at the knees, hands in his lap, with a calm, contemplative air about him...

In the dark of night, I rush through the hallway to the bedroom next to mine. I hear my son's rapid breath...

When I take hold of your son’s body and brain, it is best that you remain calm...