The suggestion that my son has “social issues” comes from the mouth of a first grade teacher.
Half Melted
A piece about finding life and hope in an object that might be deemed trash.
Joy of Men’s Desiring
Tears fell straight to my hands, changing his discarded crumbs to wet dough.
Eavesdrop
A poem by Krista Farris.
Why It Took Me Two Months To Recycle A Glad Bag
I forget, to my son, childhood is not a thought, a passing chain of worries, or stages of changing forms – it is Everything he has been, Everything he is. It is Who he will Be.