We went to the shore for Easter. The weather was supposed to be nice, and we figured it was worth the hour and a half drive.
Elizabeth, my youngest, could have resurrected Jesus herself with her screams. Then there was Emilia, frustrated with her little sister’s screams, and

I’m sorry for the delay. Things have been…weird around here.
My therapist has thrown out the word ‘manic’. My parents have expressed ‘worry’ and dying on a hill has entered the vernacular.
And the past few nights, when I couldn’t