(Originally written August 17, 2017) It rained for a week after Caryn died. Memory is a funny thing and can easily be manipulated to suit the stories that we want to tell, so maybe I am wrong, but I remember it as a soft rain, the kind of rain that you can stand under and… Continue reading The Breaking
I pay attention to the sky more than I used to. For a long time now, I've seen without seeing. When I tell people I feel like I'm just waking up - this is what I mean. The cotton candy edges of clouds float across the ombre blue sky. To my left is light Robin… Continue reading The stones in the middle of the river.
When I was twenty years old, my mother and grandmother died within three days of each other. I remember feeling almost incredulous. This didn't happen in real life, this was like a story line from the soap operas I watched so religiously in high school. This didn't happen to real people. Except it did, and… Continue reading Lucky Number Thirteen
I am sometimes an impulsive person. I sat down one day and decided to start this. Just buy the name, I told myself. Make it official, then it will be a REAL THING. Why I wanted it to be a real thing, I don't even know. I hadn't spent much time thinking or planning this… Continue reading I Got Here. Now What?
I've been trying to write all day. I feel the pressure building up - it's right there, under the surface, words that need to be released. But they are stuck. Which is appropriate I suppose, since I feel stuck today. It's as if my soul has caught on a piece of gum discarded on this… Continue reading Beginning Again
On the day before my one year anniversary of sobriety, I turned to Caryn and said "I'm afraid no one will come." We were outside on a smoke break at work, and I was referring to the sit-in that was happening that night. What I understand now is, I really meant "I'm afraid I'm not… Continue reading Falling Together Again