She draws something that looks like a flame atop a candle.
Or maybe a cupcake.
Or maybe a gnome, my husband says.
And I stitch it,
not wondering so much about
what the drawing represents
as I wonder if she ever feels
inside her disability.
I got a call that Nancy
was peeling off her clothes.
“She’s having a hot flash,” I said.
“Lord knows, when I have a hot flash,
I’d love nothing more than to pull off my
And sometimes I wonder if maybe I’m the one
inside my so-called ability,
with all my layers of
and education . . .
She is my developmentally disabled sister-in-law, Nancy,
and I am Jeanne, the woman who flat-out loves her.
Go here to start at the beginning and read your way current.
And there’s a pinterest board, too.