Blog
8-08-09
A brief glimpse into an afternoon mothering a 13 year old boy
On a recent sweltering August afternoon in Austin I pile my son George and his friend Abe in our Honda to go to Barton Springs.
“You’re not wearing shoes?”, I ask Abe as I eye his large, bare feet, picturing shards of glass and lit cigarette butts impaled in the soles of his feet.