Author Archives: Kristi Campbell One day, when my son was an infant, I walked for 1,001 hours with him strapped to my body in his Baby Bjorn, my hand underneath his bottom for all of the just-in-cases. At home, sweaty and red, I unstrapped him, sure that he’d look older. It was 2pm and his diaper was wet. I […]  The first house I remember living in had a tiny linoleum kitchen with wooden folding doors leading to it from the family room. My parents locked the doors way up high with one of those eyelet locks because my brother was hyper-active and sugar was his drug. We found ways to get in, anyway. We’d […]  “If I’m the size of a nine-year-old, why am I only seven?” he said. I think about what to say to my not-so-little little boy, but I wait. I don’t want to imply that tall or short or anything between is good or bad. It just is. Like the shape of our thumbs. Who our […]  Sometimes, it’s hard to believe that sweatshirts in my closet and memories from “not that long ago” are actually more than 20 years old. Grandma was right when she said the days were long and the years, oh-so short. “Mommy,” he says, “how old will you be when I’m 40?” “80,” I say, hoping […]  I filled his sippy cup with water as he waited. Silent, pudgy baby fingers reaching. I twisted the lid, and it whispered. “Autism.” The leaves on the nearby plant shook but my hands didn’t. “No,” I said, “that’s not it.” To prove it, “Can you ask for your water, Buddy?” His lip trembled, his shoulders […]  Ker-clump, ker-clump, ker-clump. The floor shakes above me – my son is running laps. It’s not exactly running, although he is fast. The movement reminds me of baby-him crawling on one knee while the other leg semi-walked. I guess it’s a type of skipping, but more musical and dinosaur-like. Primal somehow, and so him. I think about […] |
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