Hi! I'm Kelly.

As a writer, I've always been interested in family stories. When I heard of a Satanic cult in my family tree, I thought I'd found the story of a lifetime. Read more.

Things to Remember

Things to Remember

The way the baby sinks onto my chest like a hot little sandbag when he's feverish. 

The quiet of his nursery, and the way the evening sun shines through the hole in the door and makes a circle of light against the wall.  

The way his dark eyes glisten in that dim light, as he stares at me, listening to the birds outside the window.

The urgent TAP TAP TAP of his index finger against my breast when he wants to nurse.

The smell: sweet and stale, like ice cream left too long in the sun.

The games: him hiding his pacifier inside the neck of my blouse. Him cramming the wrong end of the paci between my pursed lips. Where are baby's ears? Where are baby's hands? There they are!

The way he waves his arms up and down against the sheets, after I've lowered him into the crib, like he's making a snow angel, or swimming. 

The catch of breath, the waiting to see if he'll stir and start to cry.

The weight of the knowing that none of this will last. 

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Ordinary days are the best days.

Ordinary days are the best days.

Finders, Keepers

Finders, Keepers