Mazzy’s Stars

The other night we went to Gigi’s Playhouse. It was teen night – young people with Down syndrome, 17 years old and up.  They were getting together to hang out.  We’ve done this before, met with groups, hoping for connections, hoping for more than a simulation of a night out with friends, hoping for friendship.

and i’m so glad

joshua and i celebrated 19 years of marriage a couple of weeks ago.  the first four years of it there were no children.  no mazzy.  no abe.  no ella. i remember the counseling and the fighting.  i remember how hard it was to suddenly be married in a new city where i knew no one.

don’t worry, mom

don’t worry, mom. she says it enough lately that i’m starting to wonder that perhaps i’m more anxious than i know. mazzy turned 14 last week. it’s been less like a blink and more like a night of sleep.  time passes unaware, but it happened.  you were just out of time in a way. mazzy

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when staying at home is lame

the grocery store is its own particular type of torture. i must be thankful for the resources to be there, the choices, the strength in my legs to walk the aisles, to push the cart.  i know.  i must be. but when you’ve done something a few hundred times it loses that certain something and

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pop music and the teenage soul

this thing keeps happening as my 13 year old daughter listens to pop music.  it takes me by surprise.  maybe it’s the scientific algorithms or maybe not. mazzy will play another teen anthem about taking life and love by storm and somewhere a few bars in – i have to stop myself from weeping. mind

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the invisible ties that bind

a mother can forget her child. it’s true.  it’s in the bible. and it’s true in my life. i like to go and have a cup of coffee alone.  i’ll read until i forget where i am.  i like to get lost in thrift stores and have long conversations with friends i love. i can

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the memory of the heart

it’s late at night when my mind and heart are vulnerable to old words spoken. words that were jumbled together any way you like, but always say the same thing. “i reject you.” “you are unwanted.” “you are unloved.” these stupid words from a person who has no memory of speaking them, they can stick around like

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pie crust promises

the boy has started a comic book club and i have a tooth in my front pocket.  the girl smiles at me.  both of her front teeth have gone missing. things go missing sometimes, like whole summers, entire years even. a new friend and i talk about how we’re subject to the seasons – how fall

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