when i look at our family tree, it seems safe to say that the only similarity i am confident of is this: generation after generation, our tears are in the same language.
we brought you home from the hospital on your second day of life. i sat in the gliding chair in my room with you cradled like a football in my lap; your dad read a new book to your sister on the bed next to us. i complained that i didn’t understand how to position... Continue Reading →
it might have something to do with my literature degree, but i tend to search for meaning even when meaning doesn't want to be found. when i discovered my pregnancy with you, i must have turned the volume up on whatever sense i carry with me that seeks out the moments in life that are... Continue Reading →
i am starting to understand why we can't figure out how to love each other. you are my wound; and i am yours.
is there a word for thinking about the past that isn't nostalgia- because you don't look back on it fondly, and not regret- because it happened to you without your permission? when memories activate heartache? i learned something recently- there are some people that can live decades with tumors that don't kill them. all they... Continue Reading →
When you feel a tear sliding down your cheek in the middle of grading the stack of essays in front of you; when you drop your pen, put your head in your hands, and let yourself be defeated by the task for just a few moments; so that you can find an old journal to... Continue Reading →