My daughter would rather scoop mud than look for shells. She has my eyes and my smile but she is not the child I was when I was five years old.
Sand Dollars by Wendy Fontaine
Tag: mother-daughter
Toxicology by Stacey Resnikoff
Lola still asks daily what day it is. She asks when her sister Faye, not yet two, will be big. She asks when I will be all better…
Like Butterfly Wings by Donna Patrick
My fifteen year old nervously explains how suicidal thoughts have been playing out in her head, sometimes with a rescuer finding her in time…
