One Writer’s March Madness

By Jennie Burke

People ask if I am the mother of basketball players. My four children tower above me, the son and the daughters, scraping the door jambs at six-four, six-one…the high, high fives. They rest their chins on top of my head, and say how cute when I ask, “can one of you reach me the sugar off the top of that shelf?” They fold around and over me in embrace. But they do not play basketball. None of us do.

I cannot reach the sugar, and I cannot write, even though I want to. Ev...