I kidnapped my paralyzed veteran grandpa from the nursing home on Veterans Day so he could lead one last parade, because I refused to watch him fade away under fluorescent lights clutching a folded flag on the wall. The nurses would call the police. My mom would probably cry and yell at the same time. […]
For a whole year after my mom died from a virus that turned our country into one long argument, a biker in a torn leather jacket showed up at her grave every Sunday morning and I was sure he was there out of guilt. Every week at nine on the dot, while I sat in
A Biker Came To My Mom’s Grave Every Sunday And I Finally Learned The Truth Read More »
A biker started showing up at my father’s collapsing house every Sunday at six in the evening, lighting a candle on our broken porch and leaving thick envelopes we were too scared to open, while the bank quietly circled the date it planned to take our home. I thought he was scouting for the people
A Biker Left Envelopes on Our Porch Every Sunday – Then I Opened One Read More »
Thirty-four motorcycles trapped our nursing home parking lot that gray November morning, and for the first time in my twelve years pushing a med cart, I watched people fight to break someone out instead of locking them in. Later, the internet would argue whether it was a kidnapping or a rescue. Standing there in my
When Thirty-Four Motorcycles Came for an Old Man No One Else Remembered Read More »
The biker kept showing up every Sunday at Maple Park, and when the photo I posted to our neighborhood app turned into a swirl of worried comments and side-eye warnings, I told myself I was protecting my daughter.I didn’t know I was about to meet the man who had already protected her in a way
He Watched My Daughter Every Sunday—Then I Learned the Truth Read More »
Seventy miles into a heatwave that bent the highway like a mirage, a biker in a patchwork vest hovered in my mirrors so steadily I started counting exits like prayers. I changed lanes; he changed lanes. I kept my hands at ten and two and tried to breathe like a calm person would. I am
I am a child life specialist at our county hospital, which means my job is to help kids carry the heavy things adults can’t see. Some days that looks like blowing bubbles during blood draws, and some days it looks like finding the exact stranger who knows the right sentence to save a child’s courage.
Engines Off, Hearts On — The Day a Town Learned How to Look at Scars Read More »
The monster from the news, the biker who put my son in this coma during the riots, has been in the room down the hall for ten days, and I’ve spent every one of those days praying he’d die first. Ten days. That’s how long my son, Alex, has been asleep. Ten days since the
My Son Was in a Coma. The “Monster” in the Next Room Was His Angel. Read More »
The night my brother pulled a steak knife on a diner full of strangers, the only person who didn’t run was the man who looked like he had nothing left to lose. I’ve been Alex’s sister for twenty-four years, but I’ve been his caregiver for two. And I’ve never seen him as gone as he
He Had a Knife. They Saw a Monster. The Biker Saw a Soldier. Read More »
I watched Marcus “Reaper” Cole, President of the Oakhaven Sentinels Motorcycle Club, die on the scorched asphalt of Civic Plaza. He died forcing his thousand-pound motorcycle into the front wheel of a runaway dump truck to save a crowd of protestors who, just moments before, had been screaming for his arrest. It wasn’t until the
They Called Him a Monster. His Final Act Saved Them All. His Tattoo Explained Why. Read More »
