Category: anniversary
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Be Still
My dad was the person who taught me to be comfortable with silence. We could get in the car and drive for twenty minutes without a word being spoken. While his and my mother’s relationship ultimately cracked under the weight of that silence, for me, the daughter, his quiet felt benign, reassuring, a safe place…
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Bestill: 19
My dad was the person who taught me to be comfortable with silence. We could get in the car and drive for twenty minutes without a word being spoken. While his and my mother’s relationship ultimately cracked under the weight of that silence, for me, the daughter, his quiet felt benign, reassuring, a safe place…
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Puzzled
I’m feeling desperate, like it’s never going to be right. No matter how hard I sit, think, mull, adjust, examine, and strategize, it’s all just OFF. It shouldn’t be like this. I hate it. If I have taken care and been conscious and careful, it should be right. But it’s not. It’s all just fucking…
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Nine Volts
Chirp. My brain is asleep. So is my body. The noise doesn’t fully register. After a quick blip of “Huh?” I drop back into the blackness of sleep. Chirp. Hell and damn it. My brain pushes to consciousness like it’s swimming up from the bottom of a murky lake, half panicked, gasping for air. As it…
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Cherish
As the Catholic priest with multiple boyfriends can tell you: monogamy isn’t necessarily natural. However, despite evidence that the romantic ideal of meeting The One and living happily ever after is a crock, we are trained from birth to believe in it. Perhaps we’d do better to widen the scope of our relationship discourse, to…
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Still At It
Since I have stacks of papers this week–both revisions and new essays–I’m going to continue to milk the anniversary in this post. Here are a couple of videos wherein I babble about our weekend. The first video has ice and gives you a spin of the kitchen. This next video has a picture booklet and…
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Neuf
A pot of water boiled on the burner behind my husband, as he leaned against the stove, pulling my face into his sweatshirt. This story does not end with seared human flesh, so relax, gentle reader. He hugged me to him for a long time, hard. Finally, I managed to choke out, through thick tonsils,…
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We Was Cute Once
Two weeks ago, my husband, nearly 37 years old, lost his first grandparent. Seemingly the most hale of his four living grandparents, his grandmother went into decline rather abruptly, with a kidney infection turning into congestive heart failure turning into pain and exhaustion that sapped her will to fight. Her husband, a former bank…