Love and Medication

I’m the meek kind. I don’t do so well at advocating for my children, or myself. But my heart is aching and I am tired of feeling ashamed.

This photo is from January 2020, around my eldest son’s 8th birthday. It was snapped in the second or two that he paused on his race through the kitchen, midway through a Nerf Battle break.

His is a face of wisdom and ages-old depth. His is a face of compassion and kindness reaching far beyond his short years.

His is a face of medicated ADHD.

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The Forager

The Forager pushed aside saplings with her axe, taking slow steps, walking lightly to avoid the crackle of dried wood underfoot. Bird’s shrieked a cacophony in the branches above her, masking all but the loudest of noises in the forest.

Still, it paid to be cautious; the troll clan would not welcome her presence here.

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Dreaming Big

The hallway light

Do you dream big?

I dream big now. There’s not much time and there seems little point in dreaming safe, dreaming small.

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Blueberry Pie and Story

“Let’s be together, Mama”.

“Hold on, Bobbin”.

“I just wanted to tell you that I wish you would read me a story”.

“Bobby, I just read you a story”.

“Yeah, I know. But I wish you would read me another one”.

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