Allison Donohue's Page

Time passes slowly at two am. It is measured not in seconds, but in the rise and fall of a little boy’s chest as he sleeps sprawled across the foam pad beside me. I reach over and touch his tiny fingers. Are they cold? They feel cold. The weather report said 55 degrees for tonight. It feels colder. I adjust the…

My feet don't make much noise on the damp pine needles as I climb up the steep hill that marks the beginning of my favorite local trail, the one I used to run laps around when I lived down the street from the small state park, ten years ago. On this trail, I am used to pushing myself. The hills aren't long, but they…