O Mighty Crisis Stories

2

It Would Be a Few More Years Before I Learned About Parallelism

I’ve been sifting through boxes of memories — the accumulated papers from my youth. As I grab each handful of faded pages, drunken journal entries, glowing fourth grade report cards, conflicting judges’ sheets from speech meets, crude first grade drawings, crazily folded letters, I am pulling more than paper onto...

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4

I Tried to Get Pinteresty and Ended up Drinking a Box of Wine

Listen, I didn’t drink all three liters in one sitting. The last thing I’m in the mood for is wiping vomit off the hardwood. (Note to self: make Pinterest vision board of photogenic approaches to mopping up half-digested ravioli) Trust me, I did pace myself with that box of wine,...

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2

Salt on the Road

Grey sky hangs low, a cinder block compressing the horizon. Lifeless, yawning fields spread to the left; decaying tillage muddles the acres on the right. The car flits past a “Did You Know? My Heart Beat 18 Days from Conception” billboard, then another, this one taking the tack of “My Doc...

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4

Found My Marbles

That damn marble. For the past couple of years, every time I’ve swept the kitchen floor–so, like, five times–I’ve dislodged that damn marble from its hiding place under the radiator. After warming up with gentle strokes around the stove, near the fridge, over by the bathroom, I close in on the...

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0

I’ll Tell You Why I’m Crying

I’m crying. I’m crying because I’m running. I’m crying because I’m running because my right eye weeps whenever the slightest breeze blows against it. I’m crying because I’m running because my right eye weeps whenever the slightest breeze blows against it because the tear duct is apparently clogged. I’m crying...

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6

13

He comes home from school and tells me, “My legs have been hurting again. I must be growing.” We measure him. He’s sprouted a quarter inch in the past three weeks. At just over 5’6″, the kid is taller than I am. ** We park by the garage. Allegra’s door...

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3

Oh no love! You’re not alone

I had thought it would be dark. I had thought it would be quiet. I had thought it would feel like being inside a phone booth. Close. Encapsulating. Perhaps calming, in the way a compact, dark, quiet space can be. Like hiding in a closet during Hide-N-Seek when the edges...

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4

This Wrap-Up Is the Only Thing I’m Wrapping

I didn’t wrap one single gift this season. Relatedly: this was my favorite stretch of holiday weeks ever. It actually started with Thanksgiving, when we curtsy-ed our way out of traditional family celebrations and, instead, invited friends from Massachusetts to visit. Were I to highlight a moment that illustrates why I loved this...

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1

A Three-Hour Tour

True story: about three years ago, on some occasion when we were staying in a hotel–probably during a gloomy soul-suck of a February–we turned on the television to enjoy a bit of that glamorous thing called cable. On a very fine network, one devoted to aspirational lifestyles, house flipping, and...

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2

Not for the Faint of Heart or Soft of Skull

Looks like Byron’s playing dress-up. Is he a coal miner? Hobo? George Michael circa 1983? Or is there another explanation for the state of his face? There sure is. Someone did this to him. His name is Denis, and he was assisted by a compact second named Henri. Denis and...

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