Amanda RůžičkováAuthor of 53 Articles

We promised to share the weight, so I carried the groceries and the grief. I took your name, and the calls, and the questions no parent should have to answer.…

We ran for the running, chased nothing, won joy. Grass-stained knees Popsicle tongues Palms full of gravel and glory. I was a mom-shaped kid— barefoot, loud, rebecome. And you— you…

You are not a burden. You are tired— not broken. You are in need— not too much. You are still here— That is triumph.…

I was a mother. I was a wife. I was— —I was The door clicks shut— and I’m breathless air, a question unasked, unformed. The street rings under unmoored…

In that fractured hour, time cracked like a bone, breath split sharp between throat and bone— each swell a surge, dragging me under, muscles clenched like fists, knuckles white, tight,…

Author’s note: Learning Czech is like… We started with coffee and a casual clause. Then you slipped into instrumental— and I never recovered. You’re the kind of language…