For ten long years, the people in my town mocked me: they whispered behind my back, calling me a wh:ore and my young son an
My name is Maya, and I am thirty-eight years old, but just three months ago, my life essentially ceased to have an easily measurable timeline.
The rain outside Brighton Falls came down in slow, heavy sheets, but the storm inside my life was far worse. I stood in the hallway
My stepmother possessed a magnetic, unwavering confidence that allowed her to wear inexpensive, often brightly colored jewelry, sourced entirely from thrift stores, with the poise
The ballroom sparkled like something ripped from a fairy tale, but even fairy tales have their monsters. Crystal chandeliers, heavy with imported glass, cast a
Chapter 1: The Silence of Maple Lane Mornings in Cedar Grove possess a particular quality of silence, a heavy, velvet stillness that seems to cling
Christmas morning had always followed the same comforting script in our house. Soft music in the background, cinnamon rolls in the oven, wrapping paper scattered
I never imagined I would be telling a story like this. Even now, recalling it makes my hands tremble. Some moments mark you quietly at
I never imagined that Christmas would arrive carrying silence instead of joy. Not the peaceful kind, but the heavy, aching quiet that settles in your
“Autism requires strategy. Even though before going into Panera Bread I sat in the car and came up with a strategy for our mission to