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A Reflection on the Behavior of Creek Water and the Mirror of Myself as the Mother of an Autistic Boy
Haze blurs his profile.I grip the thin stem of hope.Current keeps moving. I came across this photo from a camping/hiking weekend in December 2018 this morning, and it opened something in me… or awakened it. In the photo, the woods are one giant lens flare: the late-fall sun punches clean holes in the canopy, throws…
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Post-Diagnosis
Looking down at those leaves, loosened from their season, clinging by the thinnest threads of stem… I see myself. They hover over moving water, suspended between staying and letting go, their edges softened and pulled apart by the trembling creek. The surface never stills long enough for clarity; it stretches every familiar thing into wavering…
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2025
2025 has been… peaceful. Not because it was an easy year. Personally, it has been a year of intermittent, great difficulty. The most challenging thing has been the unexpected diagnosis for my son – this, alongside compound grief that included more than death, and varying massive changes to daily life. It was a year of…
catacosmosis 